


From Bear Pits to Fighting Pits

by BecauseBraime



Category: Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Angst and Hurt/Comfort, Angst with a Happy Ending, Did I Mention Angst?, F/M, Heavy Angst, Meereen, Past Cersei Lannister/Jaime Lannister, Post-Canon, dany goes mad but slowly, fighting pits, not Dany friendly, not cersei friendly
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-21
Updated: 2021-02-14
Packaged: 2021-03-13 04:01:27
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 28
Words: 90,589
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28897062
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/BecauseBraime/pseuds/BecauseBraime
Summary: Daenerys wins the Battle of King's Landing without fire and blood. Like her father before her, she begins the slow descent into madness as she sits on the Iron Throne. In her quest for revenge, Daenerys exiles a group of Westerosi to Meereen to serve in the fighting pits or as servants. Among that group are the Lannister twins and Brienne.
Relationships: Jaime Lannister & Addam Marbrand, Jaime Lannister/Brienne of Tarth
Comments: 702
Kudos: 323





	1. The Consequences of Hatefulness

**Author's Note:**

> POV chapters in this fic will include Jaime, Brienne, Daenerys, and Tyrion. Heavier focus on the group in Meereen to begin.

Four moons had passed since the siege of King’s Landing. The battle between two queens had ended with Cersei in chains, and Daenerys on the throne. Had it not been for sporadic visits from Tyrion, Jaime would not have known the passage of time. He only knew darkness, anguish, and pain.

Now, Jaime stood chained and beaten before Daenerys Targaryen. To his side, Cersei’s wrists were also shackled, but it appeared that Daenerys’ army had withheld their blows when retrieving her from the cells. Before fighting for the living at Winterfell, Jaime thought the Dothraki as vicious as the Wildlings. He thought the Unsullied as emotionless as wights. That both armies spared a vile woman who antagonized their queen spoke volumes.

_My father’s men would have done horrid things to the enemy; woman or man, adult or child. Someone like Ser Gregor would have had Cersei in pieces before Daenerys sat on her silly throne._

At Daenerys’ side, Tyrion stood rigid. His face was downtrodden as he stared at Jaime. True to his word, a boat had been awaiting Jaime and Cersei the day of the siege. What Tyrion did not realize was how wrong he had been in reading the Jaime’s intent.

When word arrived at Winterfell of Cersei’s growing advantage in the war, Jaime knew that his sister was as good as dead. The destruction that Daenerys unleashed on the dead was incredible, and she hadn’t been _angry_ then, only determined. Now Cersei had made the fatal error of killing her _child_ , Rhaegal. Then Cersei captured and killed Daenerys’ advisor and closest friend.

_Idiot. Cersei was asking for a painful demise. She never knew when to accept defeat._

In the North, Jaime had seen something in Daenerys’ eyes that looked far too much like Aerys. If she didn’t destroy all of King’s Landing to get to Cersei, surely, she would use her dragon to torch Cersei and the bannermen until they were naught but ash. Daenerys had proven herself capable of such atrocities on the gold road. Not even a pregnant swell at Cersei’s belly would spare her from death by dragonfire.

Cersei failed to honor her oath to the living. Cersei killed a dragon. Cersei killed Missandei. Cersei’s painful demise was guaranteed, or so Jaime thought. It was the second thing that Jaime was wrong about.

Jaime rang the bells as Tyrion asked him, and the dragon queen called off the attack. The overwhelming defeat of the Golden Company had been astounding to hear about when Tyrion visited Jaime’s cell in the days following the siege.

Despite holding back her men from further destruction of King’s Landing, the dragon queen’s thirst for fire and blood seemed far from sated in Tyrion’s mind. During his visits, Tyrion seemed nervous and uncertain. It wasn’t until Jaime entered the throne room that he saw it for himself.

Daenerys looked unhinged even without speaking. She sat on the throne as though the swords comprising the chair were jutting into her back. Dark circles lined Daenerys’ eyes, and a sickly-looking complexion touched her skin. For a beautiful woman, Jaime had never seen someone so ugly.

Now as Jaime stood beside Cersei, he sucked in a sharp breath. A tremor of fear ran through him at what end they would meet. Jaime didn’t fear death, but he did not want to die as Aerys killed men. He did not want a bath in fire and blood. Less so than his own death, Jaime did not want the babe in Cersei’s belly killed for his sins. Despite the wedge between them, Jaime did not want Cersei burned alive either.

_I should have strangled Cersei when I had the chance. It would have been an act of kindness compared to what we’re to receive now._

For her part, Cersei stood with her chin raised defiantly. Even standing before the Stranger himself, Cersei would not back down. At the base of the stairs ascending towards the throne, Daenerys’ guards stood tall and resolute. Grey Worm stood protectively beside Daenerys. His eyes reflected the spirit of a man halfdead, and Jaime recalled his attachment to Missandei at Winterfell. To the left and right, the top-ranking officers of the Dothraki and Unsullied armies stood quietly, but ever at the ready.

On the left side of the room, Jaime saw the remaining Great Houses, including House Stark, House Arryn, House Tully, House Martell, and the newly legitimized Gendry Baratheon. Many of the vassal Houses standing among them were familiar to Jaime. It appeared that Sam Tarly represented the Reach, though he looked uneasy and awkward.

There were other dignitaries present, most of whom Jaime did not recognize. One man stood out more than the others. He was the tallest man Jaime had ever seen. With shoulder-length blonde hair and a full beard to match, the man stood at Gendry’s side and stared ahead at the dragon queen. Jaime guessed the man was likely of age to his aunt. From the side, he almost resembled Brienne.

_Brienne. Where is she?_

Leaving Brienne had been the most difficult decision of Jaime’s life. He loved her with all of himself, but in the end, he couldn’t stay. For all he had done to wrong so many throughout his life, Jaime knew that he deserved death with his hateful sister. He never expected to survive Daenerys’ siege of the city after Cersei’s actions which aimed to provoke Aerys’ daughter.

Further, Jaime could not leave his pregnant sister to die by Daenerys’ hand, or at least, he could not leave her to die alone. They came into the world together, and they would die together. In Jaime’s mind, he deserved no kinder death.

_“How do you know there is an after?”_

The question had rolled around in Jaime’s mind since the words left Bran’s mouth so many moons ago. He should have been executed on the spot for what he did to Bran, but the boy said nothing. After the battle with the dead, all Jaime saw were his failures.

He saw the crippled boy he pushed from a window. He saw the broken young woman once tortured by his hateful sister. He saw the faceless girl who took revenge on House Frey when he was too craven to do so.

When the living prevailed at Winterfell, Jaime realized that the death he wanted was not possible. When he rode to Winterfell to fight at Brienne’s side, he expected to die in the battle. After seeing that creature charge from a box in the dragon pit, Jaime knew this was not a foe he could defeat. Perhaps with two hands he would have felt more confident, but Jaime was just a cripple. The best he could hope for was to die defending Brienne; to die in her arms.

For years, Brienne had been Jaime’s only light in the darkness. She was his guiding light. If he was lucky, Jaime thought she might hold him in death. The thought seemed laughable now. Of course, the gods denied him such kindness. Instead, he would die with his hateful sister as repayment for his crimes.

Standing from her seat, Daenerys glared at the Lannister twins with vacant eyes. “Cersei Lannister, you have committed many crimes; far too many to name. Of all your crimes, your most egregious is your refusal to _bend_. You and your bastards had no right to my crown. Because of that, you forced a war. A war that saw my child and friend killed!”

Jaime could feel the rage radiating off both women. At his side, Cersei’s body stiffened and her lips curled into a snarl. Muttering under his breath, Jaime beseeched her to remain silent. Cersei’s head snapped to Jaime, and all he saw was wildfire flickering in her eyes.

“Silent? Are you so craven, brother? I am a queen!”

Jaime felt his jaw clench in anger. There was no arguing with Cersei when she was in such moods and doing so now would not help their cause. Instead, he grumbled and hung his head.

“Jaime Lannister.” Daenerys’ voice captured Jaime’s attention. He raised his head to meet Daenerys’ violet eyes. “Unlike your sister, you kept your word to fight for the living, but… you returned to _her_. You chose to continue defending a false queen.”

A heavy silence fell over the room. Jaime’s eyes darted to Tyrion and he noticed his brother shift uncomfortably on his feet. Sucking in a deep breath, Jaime made the same plea to Daenerys that he made to Tyrion.

“Please, do what you will to me, but let my sister deliver the babe first. She carries an innocent.”

Cersei huffed at his side. Her voice was filled with disgust as she spoke to him once more. “You’re weak. I should have let the Mountain kill you when I had the chance. How can you stand there and accept death from this usurper!? That is our throne! Our child will sit on it.”

“Your child will sit on little more than a chamber pot.” Daenerys spoke once more. Slowly, she descended the steps to stand before them. “Luckily for both of you, my Hand, the Lord of Casterly Rock and Warden of the West, has pled for your lives. I am not my father. I am merciful and benevolent. I will not kill a pregnant whore.”

At the words, Cersei lunged forward, but the guards at her back tugged forcefully on the chains, rooting Cersei in place. A vicious smile curled at Daenerys’ lips as she stared at Cersei.

Despite the tension between the two women, Jaime felt an overwhelming relief. He looked to Tyrion and smiled weakly. Silently, he mouthed the words. ‘Thank you.’

“And you…” Daenerys shifted to her side and stared at Jaime. “You’re quite fortunate that I am worthy of my crown. Lord Bran made a compelling case for your life when I contemplated burning you to ash for the death of my father.”

Jaime’s eyes went wide. His eyes darted left to Bran who stared vacantly at him. Jaime’s jaw went slack, but Daenerys spoke once more. “Your brother believes that I made a mistake on the gold road. He says that Westeros will never accept rule by fire and blood; that I must show _mercy_. Were it not for my Hand and Lord of the Rock, along with Lord Bran’s words, I would reacquaint you with Drogon this morning.”

Ascending the stairs once more, Daenerys sat down and glanced at Tyrion. It was clear that Tyrion had fought vehemently for Jaime and Cersei, but Jaime wondered at what cost. His brother appeared a man preparing for death more so than ruling as Lord Hand. Worry for Tyrion clouded the welcome news that Cersei would be spared, and that Tyrion had finally been awarded the Rock. Jaime always believed that Tyrion would make an incredible lord for the West.

As to his own life, Jaime cared little. He died when he rode out of the courtyard at Winterfell and left Brienne shattered. Hurting her had proven to the be the most difficult and loathsome act of Jaime’s life; worse even than pushing Bran.

Jaime had taken the most incredible person he had ever known and hurt her. He lied to Brienne to break her heart and prevent her from following him into death. When Jaime left Winterfell, he knew that he was leaving one extreme for the other. He was leaving the chance for happiness, love, and life, for misery, hate, and death. He was leaving the most selfless woman he had ever known for the most selfish. He was leaving his heart for the heartless.

_Where is Brienne? Why is she not with Sansa? Is she back on Tarth? Is she well? Is she happy?_

Daenerys’ voice cut through Jaime’s thoughts. She spoke commandingly from the throne. “Cersei Lannister and Jaime Lannister, you are hereby stripped of your lands and titles. As I was forced to live in exile, so shall you. You will join the rest of those found guilty of backing a false queen.”

Daenerys inclined her chin towards a group to Jaime’s right side. Near the front of the room in chains were other prominent vassals, including some from the West. Among roughly thirty vassals, Jaime saw his childhood friend, Addam Marbrand. Jaime swallowed thickly when his eyes met Addam’s. 

Addam stood tall and defiant as ever. He was fiercely loyal, and Jaime hated him for it. He wished his friend had some semblance of self-preservation. He and Cersei were not worthy of his loyalty, but it was clear that Addam would not stand by the kingdoms’ new queen.

From her perch on the throne, Daenerys told the guards to move the Lannister twins towards the group. “You will be sent across the Narrow Sea to Meereen and held as political prisoners by my men. The bastard in Cersei’s belly will be taken at birth and turned over to the crown.”

Jaime was shoved forward by the large Dothraki at his back. Moving away from Cersei, Jaime squeezed by other vassals to stand near Addam. He spoke through gritted teeth in hope to not be heard by the dragon queen.

“What are you doing? You should have knelt.” 

Addam huffed a small laugh and shook his head. “The only sovereign worse than your sister is her. I serve House Lannister, and they’re sending the _only_ living Lannister that I care for across the sea.”

_Jaime sighed and shook his head. I deserve his friendship as much as I deserved Brienne._

Glancing back at Daenerys, Jaime watched as the dragon queen nodded to the door. “Bring in the last prisoner.”

The doors opened and Jaime felt his heart stop. Chained and beaten, Brienne was tugged forward by two Dothraki guards. Her head hung in shame as she was brought to the base of the steps. From behind the other nobles, Jaime could barely see her. The guards had not been kind to Brienne. Rage coursed through Jaime but was quickly replaced by panic.

_Why? Why is she a prisoner? I left her at Winterfell to ensure her safety._

“Brienne Storm, you stand accused of treason.”

Jaime’s eyes went wide at the words. Knowing Brienne as he did, Jaime knew her incapable of committing treason. Further, it struck him odd that Daenerys had called her Brienne _Storm_.

Daenerys looked to the group of nobles at the side of the room. Something flashed in the dragon queen’s eyes before she continued.

“You conspired with the Kingslayer to allow his escape and return to the false queen.”

Tyrion flinched at Daenerys’ side. Then it occurred to Jaime.

_She thinks Brienne let me go south to aid Cersei._

“She did no such thing!” Jaime screamed and interrupted the proceedings. Before he could continue his desperate plea for Brienne, a guard approached and shoved the hilt of his speak into Jaime’s gut. All the air left Jaime’s lungs as he doubled over in pain. Struggling for breath, Jaime felt the warm breath of the guard on his face as the man screamed at him.

“Quiet! You no speak!”

In a fury, Daenerys stood from the throne. “Kingslayer! If you speak one more time, I’ll have your _friend_ burned before your eyes!”

Jaime’s mind ran wild with fear. His eyes darted frantically to Brienne, but she refused to look at him. As the room quieted once more, Daenerys turned her attention back to Brienne. Hate shone in the dragon queen’s eyes as she stared at the love of Jaime’s life.

“Consider yourself fortunate that I am merciful and do not kill women in your _condition_. Like those judged before you, your fate is to live out the rest of your days in Meereen. For his loyalty, I will allow your father to have the babe in your belly when it is born. You will not get to hold or see the child as punishment for your crime.”

The world swayed beneath Jaime’s feet. All he could hear was the sound of his heart hammering in his ears. As the guards tugged Brienne towards their group, Jaime was finally able to see Brienne’s body. Like Cersei, a pregnant swell could be seen below her clothing.

_I’ve doomed her. I ruin everything good in this world._

Glancing at the group judged guilty of various crimes, Daenerys spoke sternly. “None of you will know the luxuries you’ve become accustomed to here. Some of you will be made to serve in the fighting pits. Some of you will be made to serve local families. Some of you will be made example of if you attempt escape.”

Jaime tried to take steps towards Brienne, but the guard who had shoved his hilt into Jaime’s gut tugged him violently towards the door. Glancing over his shoulder, Jaime saw the rest of the group being guided towards the same exit. All Jaime wanted to do was wrap his arms around Brienne and apologize.

He wanted to apologize for dishonoring her. He wanted to apologize for lying to her. He wanted to apologize for putting her in harm’s way. He wanted to apologize for omitting Cersei’s pregnancy. More so than anything, he wanted to apologize for not being the man she thought him to be.

They were pulled into the courtyard by the guards and shoved into awaiting carriages. The space was cramped as double the number of occupants than the carriage was meant to hold were shoved inside. Jaime felt suffocated by the mass of humanity pressing him against. Little air circulated as the carriage was loaded and began its descent towards the port.

Jaime’s eyes desperately searched for Brienne, but she was not there. There had been four other carriages in the yard, and Jaime prayed she had been afforded the gentle handling and space that he was not. In his heart, Jaime knew she would be afforded no kindness.

When they arrived at the ship, the guards pulled everyone from the carriage. Jaime sucked in a deep breath and wobbled on shaky legs. After four moons in the dungeons with little nourishment or light, the carriage ride nearly ended him.

The guards pulled them onto an awaiting ship and below deck. Instead of sleeping quarters, the ship had no partitions; merely an open cargo space. They were dragged towards the bow where long chains ran along each of the wooden walls. All prisoners were rechained; their shackled wrists now held to the chain passing from one end to the next.

Jaime had been placed on the left side of the ship with fifteen other prisoners. Those on the righthand side were ten feet from his own.

Jaime watched with desperate eyes as Brienne was brought in. She was placed on the wall opposite Jaime and directly across from him. When Cersei was brought in, two of the Westerosi guards laughed and shoved her towards Jaime. “Put the twin-lovers together. They can keep each other warm.”

At the words, Jaime’s eyes darted to Brienne. Whether she heard the comment or not was difficult to ascertain. All Jaime could see was hollowness to her features. For the first time since Jaime knew Brienne, the light in her eyes was gone.


	2. The Refusal of Aid

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The journey across the sea is unforgiving, but the reality of the situation much worse.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warning: There is some unpleasant description of prisoners being transported by ship. Don't read while eating...

Jaime lost track of how many days they were at sea. The guards only came down to throw stale bread at them and shove spoonfuls of dirty water into their mouths. An overwhelming smell of piss and shit filled the air, making Jaime want to vomit. It was like being back at Robb Stark’s camp, but now the excrement rolling back and forth with the waves was a mixture of those assembled.

For days, Jaime took only a bite of the bread he was afforded and saved the rest. His mouth watered as he stored uneaten chunks of bread in his pocket. He saved the bread for Brienne and Cersei, but only Cersei accepted his offering.

Across from him, Brienne sat in silence and refused to eat her own meager rations. For days, Jaime had begged Brienne to eat, but she said nothing. It was as though she couldn’t hear him. The sight of her vacant eyes worried Jaime more than anything else, including the conditions below deck. It was as though she had gone away inside. After several days of not eating, the man at Brienne’s side snatched the uneaten bread from her hands and lap; the sight infuriating Jaime.

“Can’t you see she is with child!? What is wrong with you?”

Cersei only snorted and rolled her eyes at Jaime’s side. “Why do you care? One less mouth to feed.”

After a momentary pause, Cersei leaned her head back against the wall and chuckled. “I can’t imagine what you all endured fighting those _things_ if a man was desperate enough to lay with _that_.”

The words reached Brienne’s ears. Brienne flinched and curled in on herself, but she did not speak. Jaime wanted to silence Cersei with the truth, but he feared what Cersei might do if she found out. Cersei was resourceful. Even in Meereen with no power or guards, Jaime worried she would find a way to harm Brienne. Further, Jaime feared upsetting Brienne by claiming the babe before the group. To Westeros, he was an oathbreaking, sister-fucking, hateful man. He didn’t want Brienne and their babe to endure such a dishonorable association. 

Seeing Brienne’s reaction, Cersei’s eyes sparkled. Leaning forward as far as her chains allowed, Cersei spoke cruelly to Brienne. “Was it even a man who put a babe in you? Perhaps some beast or one of those _things_.”

Brienne’s vacant eyes looked slowly to Cersei. Jaime held his breath as her lips parted slightly. “It was a man. A hateful man desperate for a whore. Fortunately for him, it was dark enough, and there was ample wine.”

The answer delighted Cersei as she hummed in agreement. Somehow, Brienne’s answer hurt more than losing his hand. Jaime leaned back against the wall and closed his eyes. He hated himself for what he had reduced Brienne to. Taking a deep breath, Jaime took pieces of saved bread from his pocket.

Holding the bread in his fist, Jaime threw it to Brienne. The bread landed in her lap and caught the attention of the men at each side. Staring at the bread, Brienne picked up a piece and handed it to the man at her left who accepted it eagerly.

“Why are you wasting that bread on her! Give it to me!” Cersei reached over and clawed at Jaime’s left fist, hoping to find more bread. He had more, but Brienne had not eaten. By contrast, Cersei had already consumed more than triple what anyone else had.

Pulling his arm away, Jaime snarled at his sister. “She’s pregnant just as you are!”

“Look at the size of her! That beast has ample reserves to live on! I don’t. I’m an _actual_ lady.”

Jaime narrowed his eyes in anger. “She is far more a lady than you could ever be.”

Reaching into his tunic, Jaime pulled out more bread. Again, he threw it to Brienne. Cersei raged and pounded her fist into Jaime’s arm, but he ignored his twin. Staring at Brienne, he tried to keep the desperation from his tone as he recalled the very conversation that kept him alive in the Riverlands.

“Are you so craven?”

At the words, Brienne’s dead eyes lifted to him. Jaime’s words were imploring as he stared deep into Brienne’s lifeless sapphire pools. “Live. Live, and fight, and take revenge.”

A shadow passed over her features and Jaime pushed further, this time reminding her of the babe she carried. “You are a knight. Charged to protect _innocents_. It is your duty.”

Wordlessly and without emotion, Brienne picked up the bread and ate it.

Over the next days, Jaime continued to take a bite for himself, but he saved the rest for his sister and Brienne. Only half the bread made it into Brienne’s mouth, with the other half thrown back to him. Brienne offered little more than the same clipped words. “Are _you_ so craven?”

When Jaime refused to eat his, Brienne refused to eat hers. Inwardly, Jaime knew what she was doing. She wouldn’t let him die so easily either.

For days more, the same game played out. Cersei took and demanded more. Brienne returned and demanded less. Some in their group became ill from the filthy water, putrid conditions, or rough seas. Some grew sick to the point of fever. Four died before they reached port.

Each time the guards entered the holding area, they covered their noses to prevent themselves from becoming ill at the stench. Halfway through the trip, they carried buckets of water into the small space to dilute the smell and remove the excrement, but it did little to help the conditions.

All among them were covered in filth. When at last they docked and were led off the ships, onlookers backed away in disgust. Hands flew to noses and mouths to avoid the pungent odor. The guards pulled the prisoners by their chain to a small beach area just east of the port. Their group of exiled Westerosi were instructed into the water to clean off, but it hardly helped when everyone emerged still stinking of piss and shit. One man was so demoralized he let himself drown in the sea.

The group was led to a large holding which was situated close to the sea. Were they not prisoners, Jaime would think the location gorgeous. A man with battle scars and chiseled features stood before them.

“I am Daario Naharis, commander of the Second Sons, and head of Queen Daenerys’ forces in Meereen. You are now under my command and will do as instructed, or you will face my blade. The guards will take you to the baths to clean, and the you will be assigned your roles.”

Once more, Jaime felt rough hands at his back. He was pushed forward and down a staircase towards a large bathhouse. Glancing around the space, Jaime saw several attendants bustling about and Unsullied standing guard along the walls. Clean clothes were stacked to the side as the guards cut away their filth-covered garments with daggers and arakhs.

Attendants came around to shave the men and cut their hair, explaining only that they meant to keep away the flees. To Jaime’s amusement, their wrists were kept chained. Glancing around the group, there were only several among them capable of fighting, one of whom was roughly five moons pregnant.

_What do they think we mean to do if unchained? Fight our way out with sheer resolve?_

Addam grumbled at Jaime’s side. “I’d hate to clean these baths after we’re done with them.”

Addam’s words sounded distant as Jaime stared at the baths. The water rising off them created a mist and took him back to Harrenhal. His eyes darted to Brienne as memories crested over him like a wave might. Without taking his eyes from Brienne, Jaime barked at the guard at his back who was busy cutting away his tunic and breeches.

“Can’t you provide the women with a private bath? There are only two of them among us and they’re each with child.”

The guard ignored Jaime and shoved him forward as the foul-smelling clothes pooled at his feet. “Bathe! Now!”

Like the other men, Jaime covered his cock and he toed off his boots. His eyes glanced at Brienne as a guard finished cutting away her clothing. The sight of her pale skin took Jaime’s breath away. There was a softness to her now. The swell at her belly was smaller than Cersei’s, but achingly beautiful. Raising her chained hands to cover her breasts, Jaime marveled at how full they looked.

In the moons of captivity, Brienne’s hair had grown longer and had a surprising shine to it. Absurdly, Jaime felt his cock begin to stir. Hanging his head in shame, Jaime chastised himself. He watched as Brienne moved into the bath nearest her, and Jaime rushed to join her.

Jaime cared little for how absurd it looked when he crossed the bathhouse to Brienne’s side. All he cared about was being in the same tub to ensure her safety. While no one would be so idiotic as to touch her or harass her, Jaime wanted to be certain of it.

Addam and several other men moved into the tub with Jaime and Brienne. The remaining men moved into the tub opposite them on the side of the bathhouse where Jaime previously stood. Jaime couldn’t take his eyes off Brienne as she hung her head in shame. Several men cast a sideways glance at Brienne, but none spoke. The thought of anyone else laying eyes on Brienne infuriated Jaime, but he knew that she was not his to claim. She never would be.

An enraged voice spoke defiantly from the doorway. “I should be afforded my own bath as the only woman here!”

Jaime’s eyes darted towards Cersei. She stood tall and proud; a true lioness. Her body always looked beautiful when pregnant, but Jaime couldn’t help but feel his eyes drift back to Brienne. As all the other men in the baths stared at Cersei, Jaime stared only at the woman already in the bath. Her face was red from embarrassment at Cersei’s comment.

From Jaime’s side, Addam’s mirth-filled voice echoed off the bathhouse walls. “Just because you’re the only cunt here, doesn’t mean you’re the only one with a cunt.”

Addam’s distaste for Cersei had always been thinly veiled. Among Addam’s many complaints, he hated Cersei most for how she treated Jaime. For years, Addam had tried to dissuade Jaime from standing by Cersei as her madness intensified. The last attempt to make Jaime see reason was when Cersei blew up the Sept. Despite his own rage at Cersei’s actions, Jaime didn’t leave her side, and Addam had never been more disappointed in him.

_‘If you stand by her now, I suppose you always will. She’ll be the death of you.’_

Reflecting on the words now gave new meaning. Cersei had been the death of him. Were it not for Cersei, he and Brienne might still be together. They would be a mess of tangled limbs while they giddily awaited their first cub.

_No, this isn’t Cersei’s fault. Were it not for me being as hateful as Cersei, I would still be with Brienne. If she would have me._

“Fuck you, Addam! I am your queen!” Cersei’s voice echoed off the marble columns and bathhouse walls.

At the words, a loud guffaw pushed past Addam’s lips. Most of those in the two large tubs chuckled as they scrubbed away the filth caked to their skin, under their nails, and in their hair.

A guard at Cersei’s back shoved her forward. “You, bathe! In tub now!”

Cersei’s face set into a deep scowl as she walked the length of the bathhouse to get into the tub with Jaime, Addam, Brienne, and eight other men. Cersei cursed as stepped into the water, but she quickly made her way to Jaime’s side. She shoved between Jaime and an exiled vassal from the Reach.

“Jaime, wash the filth from my back.” Cersei pivoted so her back was facing Jaime.

In truth, the request was reasonable. Most of the men were having to help one another as the chains made it difficult to properly scrub at their backs or wash their hair. Jaime had the added disadvantage of having a gold brick for a hand.

Jaime’s eyes flitted to Brienne. She sat alone at one end of the tub; her face the picture of concentration as she scrubbed at her arms. Once more, Jaime could think of little more than Harrenhal. _‘Not so hard. You’ll scrub the skin off.’_

Staring at Brienne, he replied to Cersei. “You’re not my queen. Ask Addam for help.”

Jaime moved to the opposite side of the tub near Brienne. As he moved, Addam snorted. “Truly? What have I done to wrong you that you torture me with such an assignment?”

Cersei ranted at Jaime’s back, but he cared little. Moving near Brienne, but not too close to agitate her, Jaime whispered. “Let me help you.”

“No.”

Brienne curled in on herself and stared at the water as it darkened from the combined filth of those sharing its water. The sound of splashing water, whispers among the staff and prisoners, and scrubbing of skin filled the air around them.

Shifting closer and lowering his voice for Brienne’s ears only, Jaime spoke with the utmost sincerity. “I’m sorry, Brienne. Please. Talk to me.”

“No.”

At her second refusal, Brienne tipped her head back to wet her hair. Taking the soap, Brienne washed her hair and face as best she could with chained wrists.

Jaime felt his heart sink at her stubborn refusal to speak to him. Although rightly earned, it stung and felt a fate worse than death. Trying a different approach, Jaime played to her compassionate nature.

_Perhaps if she helps me, she’ll be more agreeable to my helping her._

“Can you at least help a cripple?”

Holding the soap to her, Jaime watched as Brienne finished rinsing the suds from her hair. “You’re not a cripple. You beat the dead and you’re hardly incapable of rubbing soap on yourself.”

Jaime chuckled lightly and shrugged. “A bit difficult with my wrists chained, and my left can’t reach my right side.”

Putting down the soap at her back, Brienne lifted her head to meet Jaime’s hopeful eyes. She glanced at the soap in his hand which was extended towards her. With emotionless eyes, Brienne spoke coldly. “Go ask for help from the hateful woman you love so much.”

Water splashed in Jaime’s face as Brienne stood abruptly and left the tub. An attendant threw a towel at her before providing clean clothing. Jaime couldn’t stop staring at Brienne. The water dripped down the contours of her body. From the heated water, Brienne’s skin was flushed as she covered her most private areas and appraised the clothing.

“This is… I won’t fit into this.” Jaime could hear the embarrassment in Brienne’s voice as she spoke softly to the staff member before her.

The woman huffed and walked away, leaving Brienne with only an ill-fitted dress in hand. An image of Brienne at Harrenhal in the awful, pink, moth-eaten dress flashed in Jaime’s mind. With a deep sigh, Jaime looked away and tried once more to wash his body. Taking pity on him, Addam crossed the tub and grumbled.

“Gods help me. Two helpless Lannisters. Hurry up and turn around.”

Jaime did as instructed; yet again immensely grateful for Addam’s aid. Others began to leave the bath including Cersei who shoved Jaime and glared at him. “What has gotten into you!?”

She didn’t wait for a response before leaving the tub. When at last Addam and Jaime left the bath, they towel dried and put on the new clothing. Jaime’s eyes sought out Brienne once more. To her worry, the dress was poorly fitted. It did not reach the ground on account of her height, and her arms were too muscular for the sleeves. The staff had cut the sleeves away, but there was little they could do for the tightness at the bodice.

Jaime’s heart sank as he watched Brienne’s skin redden in embarrassment. Unfortunately, others had taken notice. Men began to snicker, and Cersei guffawed loudly. Wrapping her arms around herself, Brienne quickly followed the guards when the doors opened to bring them back into the hallway.

The holding seemed to have come to life since their arrival. Staff rushed past them on both directions. Soon they were back in the main hall. Daario was commanding various staff and guards when the group was brought before him.

With a missive in hand, Daario read the orders sent by Daenerys. They were split into two groups; a group for serving and a group for fighting. As Daario called out names, he pointed to his left and right. Those who would serve were placed on the left. Those who would fight were placed on the right.

“…Edwin, fight. Cersei, serve. Addam, fight. Jaime, fight. Tyson, serve. Brienne, fight…”

At the words, Jaime paled. He shook his head and interrupted Daario. “She’s pregnant! She can’t fight!”

All eyes turned to Brienne who stood rooted in place. With her eyes fixed on Daario, Brienne’s jaw was slack and her eyes wide in shock. It was the first emotion she displayed in weeks.

A guard moved quickly towards Brienne and shoved her to the right. “Move! Right. You fight.”

At the sight of the guard’s hand shoving into Brienne’s side, Jaime snapped. The Unsullied’s hands were too close to Brienne’s delicate belly, and Jaime lunged forward.

“Don’t touch her!”

Several guards were quickly on top of Jaime. Fists and feet assaulted his head and sides as Daario called for order. The guards hauled Jaime to his feet as Daario stalked forward. His eyes darted angrily between Jaime and Brienne, and it was only then that Jaime saw the blood at her lip and the guards holding her back.

“Any more trouble from either of you and you’ll be the first to find your heads in the sea!”

For the second time in a few moons, Jaime had almost cost Brienne her life. Averting his eyes, Jaime cursed and pressed his lips into a thin line. As Daario stood before Jaime, he spoke through gritted teeth to address the group.

“Supper in three hours. If you’re tardy, you miss the day’s meal.”

Among their surviving group of twenty-five, twelve had been assigned to the fighting pits. As they walked down the long hallway, Addam moved quickly to Jaime’s side and spoke in hushed tones. “Don’t worry… we’ll keep her safe.”

Jaime’s head snapped to meet Addam’s eyes. His friend raised a knowing brow and snorted before continuing to whisper. “Come now, do you think I followed all this way to watch you die chasing after your cunt of a sister? We just need to keep your lady and babe alive a while longer.”

A thousand questions swirled through Jaime’s mind. Despite the desire to voice them all, Jaime asked the question that his tongue proved capable of speaking.

“How did you know?”

A sad smile tugged at Addam’s lips. He glanced over his back to check the distance of the guards before answering. “Tyrion.”


	3. The Squalor of Exile

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The fighting group makes introductions and Addam shares some important details with Jaime.

The room was shit. It was quite possible that being chained to a post was more luxurious.

_Why bother to have us bathe if this is where they intend to keep us._

Guards handed out a bedroll to each person after removing their chains. For their group of twelve, Daario and his staff assigned a space the size of a small study at the Rock. Jaime imagined that if they each laid out their bedrolls, the mats would run the length of the room with just enough space for the door to open. Their heads and feet would kiss each sidewall at night. At the far end, two windows let in enough air and light to ensure they didn’t suffocate or go mad from darkness.

Beyond the absurdly small room, the floor was filthy. It smelled as though the last occupants were livestock, and a mix of cobwebs, dirt, and damp patches lined the floor. As all twelve stood with their backs pressed to the walls nearest the door, Addam spoke first.

“Well, this is lovely. Perhaps we can catch rats for supper if we’re late.”

One of the knights who Jaime knew, Ser Axell Florent, snorted at Addam’s words. “I’m not certain a rat would bother with this room.”

Appraising the group, Jaime noted that most were from the southernmost kingdoms. Three looked vaguely familiar, but Jaime couldn’t entirely place them. Instead he considered the space.

“Perhaps we should keep our mats rolled against the right side of the wall during the day. It seems less frequented by rodents.”

With heavy sighs, a few men voiced their agreement. Before anyone set down a bedroll, Axell eyed the group. “I only know a few of you. I would rather know who sleeps at my side. I’m Ser Axell Florent… though it seems I left the title behind in Westeros.”

Most of the men groaned as all had been stripped of their lands and titles by the dragon queen. The fact didn’t prevent any of the men from using their formal titles during introductions.

To Axell’s side, Edwin spoke. “I’m Ser Edwin. I had been serving as Castellan at Highgarden in absence of… anyone really. We’ve not had a lord or lady to lead the Reach since _certain people_ killed our Lady Olenna.” Edwin cast a pointed glare at Jaime and Addam.

Addam snorted at Jaime’s side. “Certain people? You mean this one.” Pointing at Jaime in amusement, Addam chuckled lightly. “You don’t suppose your liege lady’s death had anything to do with her allying with the dragon queen? Most would consider that an act of treason. Are you pleased that Lady Olenna’s chosen queen won her little war?”

A smirk tugged at Jaime’s lips. He raised a brow at Edwin and crossed his arms. In truth, Jaime was not fond of killing Olenna. Despite everything, including the woman’s confession at killing Joffrey, Jaime still respected the Tyrell matriarch. It was another stain on his figurative white cloak. Another hateful act performed _for Cersei_.

Next to Edwin, a short, burly man with a deep voice spoke confidently. “I’m Lord Branston of House Cuy; also a vassal of the Reach.”

Branston looked to his side. A man with blue eyes, light brown hair, and a cocky smile nodded at the group. He spoke sarcastically as he provided his background. “I’m Lord Titus of House Peake. All my kin were exiled and serving the Golden Company. I’m not much certain _why_ the dragon queen isn’t fond of my House.”

Several among them chuckled lightly at the words. Beside Titus was a Dornish knight who Jaime did recognize. “I’m Ser Symon of House Santagar. The dragon queen and I had a _minor_ disagreement on who I took orders from.”

Beside Ser Symon were four knights from the Stormlands; Ser Anson of House Swygert, Ser Mattix of House Cafferen, Ser Kent of House Kellington, and Ser Herbert of House Bolling. As with Ser Axell, Jaime knew Ser Herbert to be a second son. Jaime and Brienne had been among the last to receive Daenerys’ judgement, and as such, he lacked context for what saw the other men sent into exile.

_Why are they all here?_

Brienne was beside Ser Herbert. Knowing Brienne as well as he did, Jaime could her discomfort as all eyes fell on her. “I’m Brienne.”

The Stormlands' knights snorted in reply, but it was Ser Kent who spoke sarcastically. “Yes, you’re awfully inconspicuous, my lady.”

Brienne’s face reddened at the comment. Unwilling to allow more words provoking similar discomfort in Brienne, Jaime spoke commandingly as he eyed Ser Kent. “She warrants no introduction. The first female knight in the Seven Kingdoms. She defeated the dead while the rest of you sat safely in the south. She’s the heir to House Tarth and future Evenstar.”

“No, I’m not.” Brienne’s reply was sharp, and her eyes lifted to Jaime. “Perhaps you didn’t hear the queen, but we are all without lands and titles. I’m Brienne Storm. Just Brienne.”

_Jaime. My name is Jaime._

Addam hummed at Jaime’s side and spoke lightly to all assembled as though this was a coming of age tour. “I’m Ser Addam of House Marbrand. The queen took issue with my role as Commander of the Westerlands army. It might have had something to do with the fact, that I informed her that I would only take orders from my lord, Ser Jaime Lannister of Casterly Rock. Such a shame. I thought I was winning her over with my charm and good looks.”

Jaime was immediately thankful for Addam taking the focus off Brienne. He opened his mouth to speak, but the men groaned and waved him off dismissively.

“Yeah, yeah. Save us the introduction, _Kingslayer_.” Edwin expressed the sentiment seemingly shared by all.

An awkward silence fell over them and no one moved to set down their bedroll. Clearing his throat, Ser Mattix glanced at Brienne; his eyes lingering on the swell at her belly. “Perhaps… the lady should sleep nearest the door. If they let us out to use a chamber pot or privy, I imagine she’ll be going the most.”

Brienne bristled at the comment but said nothing. Lord Titus eyed Brienne suspiciously; his jaw opening slightly as though his mouth was attempting to express the words swirling in his mind. Jaime was ready to kill any of the men if they insulted Brienne or made her feel uncomfortable. On instinct, his flesh hand clenched, and he prepared to swing across the man’s chin with his gold hand.

“We heard rumors about you in the south. Of your… _knighting_.” Disbelief was heavy in the man’s tone and all eyes fell on Brienne once more.

Timidly, Brienne spoke with her eyes to the floor. “I’m not a knight. Just a sword. Well… I was a sword. Not a particularly good one I’m afraid.”

“ _What_!?” Jaime spoke in disbelief, but Ser Axell’s words were louder.

“Now I remember you! You were with Lord Renly and Lady Catelyn when they met with Lord Stannis. I hear you beat his little _friend_ , Loras, in the melee.” Ser Axell narrowed his eyes at Brienne.

Recognition sparkled in the eyes of those from the Reach. Ser Edwin guffawed and took a step closer. “Please, Loras fell! I heard the tale afterwards. Hardly a fair victory. That’s far less interesting than the other tales I heard from Renly’s camp. It seems someone finally won the bet on her maidenhead.”

_Bet?_

Jaime glanced at Brienne in surprise. Her shoulders stiffened at the words, but she said nothing of it. Axell and Edwin shared a laugh, but the rest of the Stormlands knights took a menacing step forward; their voices holding a dangerous edge as they began to scold the pair. Over the words flying back and forth, it was Mattix’s voice that silenced the room.

“Enough! We were all there. Lord Tarly put a stop to that shit.”

Axell put up a defensive hand. “I meant no harm. I’m more so curious. Who won it then?” The knight’s brows rose in amusement at Brienne as his eyes lowered to the swell at her belly.

Jaime’s eyes darted to Brienne. He would claim her proudly, but these men thought as much of him as everyone in Westeros. _Kingslayer_. It would not aid her plight; only worsen it. Instead, he barked at the man. “She’s a highborn lady and a knight! You have no right to…”

“The drink took it. We’ve all seen drunk soldiers after great victories. They’ll fuck anything still breathing.” Brienne’s eyes were dead as she spoke; her eyes fixed on the men from the Reach. It was the second time in weeks that she refused to name Jaime, and the second time she played it off as little more than wine-driven desperation on his part.

The men from the Reach chuckled and moved away to set down their bedrolls. At his side, Addam spoke quietly as small conversations broke out among the men.

“We should speak.”

Jaime did wish to speak to Addam, but he worried for Brienne. His eyes lingered on her as she moved towards the corner of the room and sank to the floor. She had never looked so lost and broken. The expression in her eyes spoke to the death of her heart. Jaime knew the expression, because it was reflected inside his own chest.

When he rode away from Winterfell, his heart felt forever separated from his body. He was a shell of a man with nothing to live for. All he had ever longed for was left behind in a courtyard. He gave up his heart's deepest desire to run south and die with his hateful sister.

Addam and Jaime leaned against the wall opposite Brienne. They kept their eyes on those among them as Addam spoke quietly.

“You were in the cells for four moons. These men were not. It was awful, Jaime. After taking the city, Daenerys grew paranoid. She summoned every vassal to King’s Landing to pledge fealty. It was unheard of. Past sovereigns requested only fealty of the Lord Paramounts, but Daenerys trusts no one.”

Jaime’s eyes darted to Addam in question. “Why did she let Tyrion live? I feared that she would kill him for freeing me.”

“He explained that it was you who rang the bells under his instruction. He claimed to have sent you into the city to get Cersei and her men to _surrender_. Bran backed his lie. Something about the boy unnerves her, so she relented. While she awarded Tyrion the West, she requires that he serve as Hand. It is not meant as an honor. She treats him as Aerys treated you; a political prisoner.”

Jaime sucked in a sharp breath. Memories of what felt a lifetime ago came to the forefront of his mind. The time in Aerys’ Kingsguard left him despondent and jaded. Bitterness had crept into his heart, and it wasn’t until Brienne that he felt flashes of his true self returning.

Addam sighed and shook his head. “Any lord or lady who did not pledge fealty was executed. Tyrion begged her not to kill the vassals by dragonfire. To demonstrate her _mercy_ , the dragon queen had them beheaded. In a show of power, she began mounting the heads of those killed atop the city gates. It didn’t take long for the next in line of each House to bend the knee.”

Jaime felt bile rising in his throat. Daenerys was Aerys reborn. She saw threats around every corner and sought to demonstrate her power with fire and blood.

“These men… they bent, but she didn’t care for their _attitudes_. The Stormlanders here refused to accept Gendry.” Addam huffed a laugh as he appraised the men. “Bloody Stormlanders. Always stubborn.”

At the words, Jaime’s eyes darted to Brienne as she leaned against the wall. Her arms wrapped around her legs as far as her belly would allow.

“The men from the Reach, they didn’t care for her new appointment in the Reach. She named Sam Tarly as Lord Paramount. The boy is kind, but bumbling, and they don’t like that he named the Wildling’s son as his heir apparent.”

Jaime remembered little Sam from Winterfell. He was a quiet child, but like Sam, he seemed kind and humble. Still, Jaime understood the men’s trepidation. Sam was not fit to rule when far more prominent vassals still lived in the Reach.

“Ser Symon was… not to her taste. Too similar to… well… you. Insolent.” Addam chuckled as he spoke. For a man who exiled himself to stay loyal to his childhood friend and former liege lord, he was far too lighthearted given the circumstances.

“You heard why _she_ is in here. You know why _you_ are in here. I am in here for reasons you don’t know. I played at refusal to bend out of respect for you, but in truth, I am here for an altogether different purpose.”

Jaime’s eyes narrowed at the words. He searched Addam’s eyes for the answer to his unspoken question. Glancing around, Addam whispered at a nearly inaudible level. “Tyrion told me what happened the day you were captured outside King’s Landing. He said you meant to get back to Cersei. To be honest, I thought it odd that you hadn’t returned some weeks prior, but then again… ‘fuck loyalty’.”

Jaime's eyes went wide before briefly darting to Brienne. “Who told you…”

Addam smirked. “Who didn’t? Our men were pissed that you left us behind. We would have fought at your side. Our men standing guard in the dragonpit saw it. _All_ of it. Then it made me think back to the Riverlands. It was _her_ you let through siege lines. _Her_ you stared at from atop the battlements. I truly thought you got away. You were free.”

_I wanted to be free. To finally have Brienne. I couldn’t._

Brienne’s voice from so many years ago echoed in Jaime’s mind. _‘Your crimes are past forgiveness, Kingslayer.’_

At the time, they were enemies. Even as enemies her words struck true. Jaime had not felt worthy of happiness in so long, that he hardly recognized his longing for it. He pretended at happiness with Cersei for so long, because he thought it was true and the closest he could come to love. Brienne showed him just how wrong he was.

Addam’s voice captured Jaime’s attention once more. “Well then you decided to be a fucking idiot and ride south again when _she_ started winning. Tyrion told me how he found you. He couldn’t reconcile how _vacant_ you looked after he saw you so happy just a moon prior. At Winterfell, he said that he had not see you smile since you were boys at the Rock. _That_ is when I knew for certain.”

“Knew what for certain?”

A sad smile stretched across Addam’s face. “You went away inside.”

The words were true, and it rattled Jaime that his friend could guess his mental state without having seen him. Addam had seen the look on Jaime’s face before. He asked Jaime about it over the years, and Jaime shared its origins.

For years, Jaime perfected the skill in Aerys’ Kingsguard. When he told Addam of his mental detachment from unwelcome situations, he assumed that using it to cope with Aerys was where it began. It wasn’t until being with Brienne that Jaime realized just how early in life he started doing it.

After taking Brienne’s maidenhead, Jaime had laid awake for some time staring at the ceiling. Something was gnawing at him that he couldn’t place. Being with Brienne in such an intimate way was lifechanging. He had never experienced such peace, wholeness, and love. When they came together, it was unrivaled by anything he shared with Cersei.

With his eyes boring a hole into the ceiling at Winterfell, Jaime had agonized over it.

_Gods. Why can’t I recall my first time with Cersei? I know making love to Brienne felt infinitely better than what I had with Cersei, but why can’t I remember it? I can recall where we were. I can recall the circumstances. I know that I thought it love. Why can’t I recall how it felt?_

It hit Jaime then as the love of his life lay blissfully unaware at his side. The first time that Cersei came to Jaime, he went away inside. On some level, it felt wrong. It kept feeling wrong until Jaime convinced himself it felt right. Until he convinced himself it was the _only_ love.

_Born together, die together. Two halves of a whole._

Cersei had burned the mantra into Jaime until it consumed his waking thoughts. Loving Brienne shattered the falsehood. When he realized it, Jaime felt liberated. Staying at Winterfell wasn’t a decision; it was a need and desire. He had finally found love, but it was never meant to last. Jaime feared that he had found love too late. He was too tainted and broken, whereas Brienne was goodness personified.

The whole of the North looked up to her and respected her. She was a knight and sworn sword to a Great House; a _decent_ House. Brienne was young, pure, and loving. To Jaime, Brienne was a dream that he didn’t deserve to see realized in life.

Despite recognizing his need and desire as selfish, Jaime stayed. He stayed until he realized he had to leave. Brienne deserved someone worthy, and he deserved death with a hateful woman. Jaime had spent far too long living as though he was half of a hateful whole. That he was fated to enter and leave the world with Cersei.

So he left in the cruelest of ways to ensure she did not follow. He returned to death, but the gods thought this a far worthier fate. He would instead have to sit back and watch just how much he destroyed Brienne’s life.

A hand shook Jaime’s shoulder as he stared at Brienne. “Jaime? Did you hear me?”

Shaking his head, Jaime apologized. “I… was lost in thought.”

Addam rolled his eyes and leaned closely. “We pieced it together; Tyrion and me. That is when we started planning.”

“Planning what?”

“This.” Addam extended his arms and smirked. “I feigned refusal to bend so that I can help keep the pair of you alive. Those Stormlands knights over there… they volunteered to Selwyn Tarth. Sure, they refused Gendry, but that was out of need. They needed to be exiled to guard the future Evenstar; the lady knight of their _preferred_ Lord Paramount. The Stormlands are quite proud of her. Lord Selwyn was ready to come here himself, but he needs to keep the babe safe. We’re here to keep you two alive, while those serving the true sovereign back in Westeros remove the _issue_. Well... I’m here to keep you alive. Lord Selwyn doesn’t care much what happens to you.”

Jaime’s eyes narrowed in question. “The true sovereign?”

“Jon Snow is Rhaegar Targaryen's legitimate son. Your brother is not sitting idle as a political prisoner. He is plotting with Lord Selwyn and Lady Sansa. I fear it will take time though. They need to move slowly and carefully.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> These are all actual Houses and/or book characters that I used, though as in some cases, I had to "invent" a first name. So as with literally everything about my fics, GRRM owns it all.


	4. The Truth of Mirrors

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Brienne reflects on everything and learns of her first challenge in the fighting pit.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It’s a rough chapter (Brienne POV). Sorry!

Brienne was in a living nightmare. As if the heartache of being left alone crying in a courtyard at Winterfell was not horrible enough, now she would live out the rest of her days watching the Lannister twins raise their babe in exile, or at least, she assumed they would. Brienne had been sentenced last and did not hear the fate of those before her. 

It wasn’t that Brienne was careless. Even though Jaime thought little of spilling inside her during the moon turn they were together, Brienne knew of the consequences and how to mitigate them. Moon tea. She learned enough from the men at encampments who fucked camp followers with reckless abandon.

For nearly a moon turn, Brienne took the wretched tasting tea after sliding from her bed in the morning. Her shifts began early as Sansa was an early riser. The pair took tea together in Sansa’s solar as the young woman prepared for her day. Luckily, the lady of Winterfell was considerate of Brienne’s _situation_.

The first day that Brienne arrived later than usual, Sansa smirked. She knew. After that first day, Sansa had the moon tea prepared and waiting for Brienne’s arrival.

_‘When you’re wed to a man like Ramsay, you don’t take any chances.’_

The words had caught Brienne by surprise. Her liege lady never discussed _him_. Brienne nodded and looked to her lap in embarrassment. A dainty hand reached across the distance between them and grabbed Brienne’s.

_‘Not that a babe with Ser Jaime would be all that bad. I only assume if you took it the first day, that is your preference.’_

In truth, a family was something that Brienne always wanted. As a girl, she dreamed of marrying and having children of her own. That dream was to be nothing more than that. A dream. Brienne grew uglier as she grew older. With every inch gained in height and accentuation of her ugliest features, Brienne accepted that her life would be one of service; not motherhood. Her truth was in the mirror.

Being with Jaime was like that dream. It was a beautiful vision that could never come to pass. Brienne was afraid that if she spoke it aloud, the vision would disappear. It was only a matter of time before Jaime left, and she didn’t wish to be his whore with a bastard. Just being his whore was painful enough, but she loved him, and she couldn’t stop letting him use her.

Then he left.

It was just as Brienne expected. She couldn’t compete with Cersei. Even death with his beautiful twin was a more lucrative prospect than a life with her. Sansa tried to be consoling even though Brienne offered no words to support or refute her liege lady.

_‘I shouldn’t have been so cruel. I’m certain he only fled because he didn’t feel he deserved you. I’m sorry.’_

When word arrived that the Lannister twins had been apprehended in a boat just off coast on the Blackwater, Brienne felt conflicting emotions. She was happy for Jaime. Happy that he made it in time to reunite with his true love. Happy that they had, thus far, been spared from death by fire and blood.

At the same time, Brienne felt a gut-wrenching pain like no other. She hated herself for being made a whore of. A worthless woman to warm his bed until the time came to return to _her._

In Brienne’s pain at Jaime’s leaving, she neglected to drink her moon tea. The memory of him spilling deep inside her just hours before he left vanished with any wishful longing for happiness. She walked around in a fog until the raven arrived detailing the outcome of the battle to the south. Dark wing, dark works.

The missive detailed that the new queen demanded the immediate arrest of Sansa Stark and Brienne Tarth for crimes against the crown. When the women discussed the matter, Sansa was beside herself with fear.

_‘I told Tyrion. I told him the truth of Jon! She must know.’_

Sansa shared Jon’s lineage with Brienne, and she apologized profusely for dragging Brienne into her mess. In truth, it mattered little to Brienne. She would defend Sansa until her last breath.

_‘I’ll not let her harm you, my lady. You have my word.’_

Only it wasn’t the truth of Jon that Daenerys wanted Sansa for. Tyrion only shared the truth with Varys who was now dead. Instead, Daenerys blamed Brienne for colluding with Jaime to allow him access to Cersei. As far as Daenerys was concerned, Jaime had been a political prisoner at Winterfell, and yet, he was allowed free.

Brienne took the blame after swearing that Sansa had no idea; that she failed to alert Sansa the night that Jaime left. Brienne insisted it was her responsibility alone, and she failed everyone.

Were it not for Bran and the guards on duty to confirm as much, Daenerys would have taken Sansa’s head; of that much, Brienne was certain. Brienne was placed in the cells just over one moon turn after that fateful night in the courtyard. It was the second time she allowed herself to cry over the situation.

_I behaved whorishly, and I endangered my liege lady. Now I’ll be executed, and I’ll have failed my father as his only living heir. All for what? To pretend at something that could never be._

It hardly occurred to Brienne that she had missed multiple moon cycles. When her belly began to swell with child, she knew. That was the third time she wept.

Then Brienne was dragged from her cell to stand before the court. Her face was bruised from her last beating by the Northmen playing at guards. A handful of Northerners that had marched south with Jon opted to stay in the city as Gold Cloaks. They despised Brienne for laying with the Kingslayer, but Brienne mused that wasn’t half as much as she hated herself. The men were also enraged at how Brienne’s actions had put House Stark into harm’s way. It was the Unsullied guards who pulled the men off her.

Brienne stared up at the beautiful, powerful Targaryen and saw raw hate in Daenerys’ eyes. To Brienne’s left at the side of the gathered court, Brienne saw her father. Her breath hitched and her eyes watered.

_I’m sorry._

“Brienne Tarth. You stand accused of treason… among other shameful acts.” The dragon queen’s eyes lowered to the small swell at Brienne’s belly.

Brienne thought it to be a trial and execution for her crimes. She was wrong. Instead, it was meant to make a great jape of her. Witnesses were called forward to testify to her whorish behaviors and bond with the Kingslayer. Whispers of Kingslayer’s Whore filled the throne room. When their testimony was through, Daenerys stood from her throne.

“You will receive your judgement from the crown soon enough, but today we deal with the matter of your status in the Seven Kingdoms. I’ve conferred with your father, and he has little use for an unwed whore carrying the bastard of the Kingslayer. You are henceforth stripped of your lands and titles. Of course, no one ever thought your knighting true; only a way for the Kingslayer to bed you. From what I’ve heard, no one ever considered you a lady either. Guards, take Brienne Storm back to her cells until all prisoners face final judgement for their treason.

Her father never looked at her. Not once.

When at last the final judgement came, Brienne realized that it was a fate worse than death. Brienne was a nameless woman with no one in the world who cared for her. When the time came to birth her babe, she would not be allowed to hold the child before it was taken from her.

Until that point, the prospect of holding her babe had been the only thing left to live for. Brienne thought she could finally have someone to love _and_ be loved by. Someone who, at least while young, would not be repulsed by her.

Brienne had heard people use the expression before. _Dead inside_. She never truly understood it until she felt it.

Now as she lay awake staring at the wall of the dingy room in Meereen, Brienne listened to the sound of the men snoring at her back. Silent tears fell from her eyes. It was strange to feel the moisture on her cheeks, but not the emotion pushing them from her eyes. She was numb. Numb… and dead inside.

When Brienne drifted off to sleep, the visions behind her lids were of rejection. A rose in the face. A retreating horse. A father’s scorn.

A hard kick to the back roused Brienne from sleep. The putrid smell of a man’s breath in her face assaulted her senses.

“I said wake up!”

Sitting upright quickly, Brienne grabbed at her back and rubbed the soreness away. The men had afforded her the spot nearest the door in the event they were allowed access to a chamber pot. It seemed that all the door offered was a violent awakening.

As the others began to stir, Brienne was grabbed by the arm and pulled from the room by one of the guards. Wordlessly, she was tugged down a long hallway and into a smaller room that had several chamber pots set out.

“You go now!”

Slowly, the men were shoved into the room and given the same orders. Their group glanced around questioningly at one another, but no one moved to do as they were bid. Eventually, Ser Symon sighed and moved towards one of the chamber pots.

“Fuck it. I have to piss.”

Brienne turned away in discomfort. She had seen many a soldier piss in the open, but something about the setting made her feel more vulnerable than usual. Perhaps it was the awful dress that they put her in, or perhaps it was the awkwardness of trying to balance over a pot while pregnant, but Brienne had little desire to relieve herself in front of the men.

Unfortunately, Brienne’s bladder had other opinions. Brienne knew she had to make water, but her embarrassment would not allow it. Addam spoke loudly at the rest of the group.

“Come on boys, hurry up and take a piss. Give the lady some privacy. I doubt she wants to see more of us than necessary.”

The men each moved to a pot, but Jaime lingered. Brienne could feel his eyes on her as she stared intently at the wall. The tension between them was palpable, but before he could speak, Lord Titus groaned in disgust.

“Would it kill them to clean these out before we’re to use them?”

Ser Axell snorted. “Still a step up from pissing and shitting all over ourselves and each other on a boat.”

As awful as the thought was, the thought felt strangely reassuring to Brienne. They were all miserable together despite the added awkwardness of her pregnancy in an otherwise all male group. Brienne was hardly a stranger to being the only woman among men, but at least then she felt a peer. Now she merely felt like an ugly woman intruding on their group.

One by one, the men left the room. Only Jaime remained as he finished taking a piss at her back. His approaching footsteps caused Brienne’s body to tense. It felt as though she was holding a breath until he passed.

When he stepped from the room, Brienne found the chamber pot that appeared the least full. The smell was awful, and Brienne swallowed down the bile rising in her throat. She made water but realized there was nothing provided to wipe with.

_Of course there isn’t. I’m in the fighting group, so why would they afford anything when cocks don’t need wiping. What if the men had to shit this morning?_

Moving into the hallway, the guard grabbed her arm and tugged her forward roughly. “You take too long.”

Brienne sighed and swallowed down a reply. Raising the ire of the guards or staff would do her no good. Her only hope was to deliver her babe safely before dying.

_At least that much I can give my father. He might not want me anymore, but at least he’ll take his grandchild._

They were brought into the dining hall where the group assigned to serving was escorted in from the opposite door. Slowly, everyone began to take a seat at the table. Brienne hesitated slightly. She had little desire to sit near the Lannister twins, and she was hardly surprised when Cersei was at Jaime’s side instantly.

They began speaking in hushed tones and it was obvious that Cersei was not fond of her new accommodations. There was a familiarity with which they spoke. Brienne looked away as Cersei’s hand moved to Jaime’s arm. She looped her arm through his and pulled him towards the table.

Moving to the opposite side of the long table, Brienne took a seat beside a redheaded man and a brunette man with missing teeth and terrible body odor. Fortunately, neither seemed interested in making idle conversation. They staff set out small bowls of porridge which tasted as bland as stale bread.

From down the table, Brienne heard Addam’s voice carry as he and Cersei began to bicker. It struck Brienne odd how openly antagonistic Addam was with Cersei. From what Jaime shared of the man at Winterfell, they were childhood friends and Addam was one of few in the world who Jaime trusted. That Addam would openly agitate Cersei in front of Jaime was strange.

Pushing away the thought, Brienne finished her meal as peacefully as possible. As the babe grew, so did Brienne’s appetite. Given her limited intake over the past moon turns, the babe seemed to be eating away at Brienne’s muscle tissue. She had never felt weaker as she did of late. While her belly was swelling with child, the rest of her was wasting away. It felt fitting in a way. She was little more than a vessel for the babe; her spirit long dead.

Since Jaime’s chastisement on the boat, Brienne made more of an effort. Despite her lack of desire for food, Brienne forced herself to give her body the nourishment the babe needed. The staff then set down a handful of grapes before each person.

Brienne huffed a small laugh at the meager offering. _Four grapes apiece. How gracious._

Much to Brienne’s dismay, the sight of the grapes took her back to Tarth and Winterfell. As a girl, Brienne loved fruit. Grapes had been among her favorites as a girl. She would take fistfuls of grapes from the kitchens before setting off on an adventure through Tarth’s forests. She would explore the island and nibble on grapes as she went.

As an adult, Brienne retained her penchant for the fruit. She felt less mannish eating them since small bites could be taken, and Brienne loved how juicy they were. At Winterfell, Jaime immediately noticed her fondness for them. He found them hidden in her pockets on several occasions, and he made a great show of it. When Brienne would return from her shift, she would find a fistful of grapes on the table.

At the time, she presumed they were from Jaime. A smile would stretch across her face and she would put them in her pocket. As much as she wanted to eat them all in one sitting, Brienne liked the idea of keeping one as a reminder of Jaime’s kindness towards her.

Now Brienne wondered if the staff had noticed her preference for the fruit and offered her what was leftover from the hall. Deciding it unwise to reflect on the memory, Brienne picked up the four grapes and stared at them in her hand.

_I don’t have any pockets in his awful dress. I suppose there will be no saving these._

Abruptly, the guards began urging them from the hall. They were moved outside into the large courtyard. The group serving was loaded into multiple carts which Brienne presumed would take them to holdings throughout the city.

As Cersei was pulled away from Jaime, she struggled slightly and clawed at him. “I can’t do it, Jaime! I won’t!”

“Stop it, Cersei. Do as they say.”

Brienne looked away and waited for instruction. A large, covered cart led by horses moved into the courtyard. The guards shoved them forward and barked commands.

“In cart! Now!”

Brienne held her grapes in hand and began to walk forward. As smaller carriages began to clear out, one of the horses spooked. A guard pushed past Brienne to help, but in the process, the grapes fell from her hand.

_Lovely._

With a heavy sigh, Brienne bent down to pick them up, but a guard shoved her hard in the back. “In cart he say!”

Brienne caught her fall with her hands; a few rocks cutting into her palms. From the force of her fall, her hands smashed the grapes into the ground. The juices ran into the small cuts on her palms as Brienne let out a longsuffering sigh.

Standing upright, she brushed off her hands on the wretched dress. She was surprised to find Jaime at her side helping her up and yelling at the guard.

“Do you push all pregnant women to the ground, or only those you’re meant to guard!?”

_Why can’t he let me be miserable alone? I don’t need him playing at knight. I’m no maiden in need of rescuing._

As Jaime’s attention moved away from the guard and to her, he leaned in and whispered. “Are you alright?”

Brienne tugged her arm away and spoke through gritted teeth. “I’m fine. I don’t need your pity.”

When Brienne reached the cart, she stepped up and inside. The carriage was crowded, and she took the end seat, hoping that Jaime would go towards the rear where there was a vacant space. Of course, the gods meant to torment her more.

Jaime wedged himself between her and Ser Kent. “I’m not pitying you. I only mean to ensure you’re alright.”

Brienne’s laugh was bitter as she looked to the roof of the carriage. “Yes, I’m wonderful. Everything is perfect.”

“I didn’t mean… that’s not what I meant.” Jaime exhaled and glanced around the cart. Lowering his voice, he spoke for Brienne’s ears only. “I’m so sorry for all of it.”

_I bet you are._

“Don’t worry. Your great shame is safe with me.”

An awkward silence fell over them as the cart began to move forward. The road was uneven, and the cart jostled about. Jaime’s knee and shoulder kept bumping into Brienne as they sat in silence. Jaime leaned in and whispered once more.

“I’d like to speak with you later.”

The request seemed absurd to Brienne. She huffed and glanced away before replying. “I’d rather not.”

At her side, Jaime visibly slumped. He reached into his pocket before grabbing her hand. Brienne felt something small and smooth in her palm. Looking down, she saw four grapes in her hand as Jaime retracted his own.

“If you want to save them for later, you can use my pockets. That dress seems lacking.”

Brienne began to protest, but Jaime raised his hands pleadingly. “Just… eat them. If at any point you’d be willing to speak with me, I would appreciate it. I know that you owe me nothing, but…”

Brienne didn’t wish to speak with him. She didn’t need to hear him tell her that it was all a mistake. That Cersei was his true and only love. That she would forever be lacking compared to Cersei. She already knew those things.

Unable to speak, Brienne stared at the grapes in her hand. Neither spoke for some time as the carriage continued jostling violently as they went. When eventually Brienne ate one of the grapes, Jaime smiled softly. He leaned closer once more; his lips far too close to Brienne’s ear for her liking.

“To be clear, my great shame is in the other carriage; not this one.”

The words were startling, and Brienne found herself unable to look at him. Her hand closed around the grapes and it took everything in Brienne not to squeeze them in a combination of frustration and despair. 

_Does he mean to keep using me as his whore because Cersei is not easily accessible? Why is he doing this? Why would he say that?_

Soon the carriage stopped moving. A boisterous crowd could be heard outside the carriage and Brienne could see people milling about through the breaks in the fabric that acted as a ceiling and wall to the carriage. When a guard appeared at the rear of the carriage, he ordered them to step out quickly.

Brienne did as instructed and felt her jaw drop as she stepped outside. Before them was a large arena that reminded her of the Dragonpit in King’s Landing. Unlike that dilapidated structure in King’s Landing, this one was grand and packed to capacity.

Their group was urged inside and taken down one level. It was dark and musty, but the noise from the crowd above shook the walls below. They were brought into a small room with guards stationed outside. As they moved inside, they were directed to take a seat at benches along the wall.

Once more, Jaime crammed far too close for Brienne’s liking. When everyone was seated inside, a man with a lilac tokar and a voice as smooth as silk entered the room. He smiled warmly at those assembled.

“Welcome to our honored fighting pit. I am Zharin and will oversee you here. This arena holds deep significance for our people. We are a religious culture, and this pit serves as a blood sacrifice to the gods of Ghis. Our combatants fight bravely and skillfully to please the gods. We honor those victorious, and we remember those who fall and arrive at the Gates of Fate.”

Brienne felt her brows furrow in confusion. The man spoke with a warm smile as though what was to transpire was an honor for them. As she looked around the room, the man continued.

“Our pits are also used as a means for criminals to try and prove their innocence in a judgement by battle. As I understand, all of you have been found guilty of crimes against Queen Daenerys. You will have the chance to prove your innocence in this pit.”

At the words, the group looked to one another with hope in their eyes. Ser Edwin leaned forward and spoke inquisitively. “So if we win…. We go free?”

The man’s head tilted and his eyes narrowed. “Not exactly. We understand your crimes to be rather _egregious_. A victory here will prolong your life until the next judgement. We hold our judgements weekly. I wish you all good fortune in today’s battle.”

_Gods. This was all a farce. She made a show of granting us life in exile. We’re to fight for our lives for the right to live in exile; if you can call this living._

Brienne’s mind raced at the words. She looked to her swollen belly and bit back a sob. What would she do when her belly was too round to protect herself and the babe?

Lord Branston scoffed and growled at the man. “Who are we fighting then?”

With a tight smile, the man nodded stiffly. “Each week will be different. Some weeks we fight single battles, and other a few men at a time. For your first day, Queen Daenerys requested a reenactment of one of her great victories in Westeros. The battle along the gold road between the Westerosi and her khalasar. We have some fighters from the Dothraki Sea.”

Jaime snarled and it took everything in Brienne not to knock him unconscious. “Oh? Do you have a fucking dragon prepared to torch us all? As someone who faced her khalasar, I can assure you that it was not their arakhs that won her victory.”

Something dangerous flashed in the eyes of the Meereenese nobleman before them. He spun on heel and left the room without another word. As the door slammed shut, Addam snorted.

“Great. A never-ending Trial by Combat. Nice touch from the dragon queen cunt.”


	5. The Retelling of Battles

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The Westerosi face their first challenge in the fighting pits.

Jaime felt panic set in as he considered Addam’s words. His eyes darted to the swell at Brienne’s belly and a wave of dueling emotions crested over him. He felt rage at Daenerys for this cruelty. He felt fear for the life of Brienne and his unborn child. He felt guilt that his actions put her in this situation.

Jaime needed to protect her, and the only way was to use his body as a shield. Further, he needed to rely on the men around him. Taking on one Dothraki he could manage, but a group of them was an altogether different thing. Jaime took a deep breath and appraised the room.

“Aside from Ser Brienne, who has trained alongside the Dothraki at Winterfell, I assume that none of you have fought Dothraki before?”

All those assembled looked questioningly at one another and shook their heads in refute. With a deep sigh, Jaime considered the best approach. “Lovely. They’ll use their arakhs to try and catch your sword or spear between it, and pry it from your hands. You’ll need to angle your strikes differently against them if you feel like living through the day. Swing upwards as it’s harder for them to close in on. If your blade does get caught, push your shoulder into the man. The flat of their blades will face your body, and they can’t yank the sword away if you’re crowding their space. Unlike them, you’ll have a free hand for a counter with a dagger.”

Ser Anson snorted from across the room. “What makes you think that  _ lovely  _ Zharin fellow will be generous enough to offer two weapons apiece?”

“What makes you think I’d be so polite as to only take one?” Jaime scoffed at the man and glanced at Brienne’s swell once more. When their eyes met, Jaime’s face softened.

“You trained with them and knocked Daenerys’ officers to their worthless asses. What else?” Jaime hoped that Brienne would at least talk to him and the group if it meant her survival.

He watched as she considered his question. Brienne’s lips pressed together in irritation before parting to speak. “They’re stronger than anyone that most of you have trained with. Their legs are strongest from riding horses all day, but their core doesn’t see as much of a regular challenge. I found it limits their range of attack. They’ll charge straight ahead and try to overpower your. Try to sidestep and keep moving around them. They hate that. All this of course, in addition to everything else Ser Jaime noted.”

Soon, the door to the holding cell opened and guards escorted them down a long hall. They were brought into a room with rusty weapons, but no armor or shields. Glancing back at Ser Anson with a smug expression, Jaime marched forward and took two weapons. Having only one hand, he tucked the dagger into the outside of his boot, piercing through the worn leather to act as a scabbard since he lacked one.

With a sword in hand, Jaime lingered close at Brienne’s side. A small smile tugged at his lips when he saw her take a sword and morningstar. Most of the men opted for swords and daggers, but the lords who had no fighting experience took spears thinking it would help them keep the Dothraki at a distance.

_ They’ll be dead in no time. This day will not end well for some in our group. _

The crowd above them at ground level was overwhelming as they stomped and cheered in anticipation. The walls of the makeshift armory shook from the crowd, and Jaime felt a deep unease set in.

When the guards began to push them forward towards the pit entrance, Jaime moved quickly at Brienne’s side. Her eyes stared blankly ahead, the spark still gone.

“You beat death. You can beat this too.” Jaime needed Brienne to fight with everything she had. Her life and their babe’s life depended on it. Inwardly, Jaime committed to not leaving her side.

“Focus on your own fight. I don’t need your pretty words.” 

Jaime hated that she wouldn’t meet his eyes, but he knew it wasn’t owed to him. “They’re not pretty words, Brienne. I won’t see you die out there.”

“Then look away.” A stubborn resolve kept Brienne’s eyes fixed on the pit entrance ahead. Jaime couldn’t tolerate the thought of not seeing her eyes once more before they face death  _ again _ .

“Brienne!” The men walking before them turned in question at Jaime’s tone. “I’ll not lose you in this gods damned pit in the middle of nowhere.”

Brienne sighed and shook her head at his outburst. “Can’t live with me, can’t live without me. It’s all very confusing, Ser Jaime. I truly don’t see why you care.”

Jaime moved quickly in front of Brienne and blocked her path. The guards began to yell at his delay, but he refused to move. Staring into her eyes, Jaime spoke with the utmost sincerity. “I’ll not lose you or our babe.”

“ _ My _ babe is a bastard, just like me. Move.” 

The tone sent Jaime back to the Riverlands. All that was missing between them were chains around his wrists and a rope. As Brienne shoved past him, Jaime followed her in stunned silence. One of the guards shoved him hard in the side and barked at him to move faster. When Jaime caught up to the group and stepped into the pit, his eyes went wide.

The pit was larger than he expected and filled to capacity. As their group of twelve huddled together, Jaime scanned the arena. In a covered section befitting royalty, men in finery sat quietly and appraised the Westerosi. Two of the men leaned towards Daario and whispered; their fingers pointing at Jaime’s group. 

As the crowd roared with excitement, Zharin entered the pit with a wide smile on his face. He nodded in reply and extended his arms to quiet the crowd. When he spoke, it was in a tongue that Jaime could not understand. At several points the crowd cheered loudly at his announcement, the sound cutting straight through Jaime. 

When Zharin concluded, he raised his arms dramatically and the crowd leaped to their feet in excitement. As the crowd calmed, Daario stood and began to speak in what Jaime could only assume to be a translation. “On behalf of Queen Daenerys Targaryen, a reenactment of her great victory from across the Narrow Sea in Westeros! Her Khalasar fought bravely against the men in iron suits defending the false queen who stole her family’s throne. Today, they will share that victory with you.”

As Daario finished speaking, the pit door opened to reveal twelve Dothraki screamers. They circled the Westerosi on horses; their war cries filled the pit and excited the crowd. A dust storm kicked up as they rode the perimeter of the massive arena. Watching as they ran circles around them, Jaime felt rage pool deep in his gut. Their group stood at the ready with weapons raised high.

At their group’s back, Zharin spoke once more. His words were foregin, but Jaime heard one word clearly: ‘Westerosi’. The crowd began pointing towards the Dothraki and laughing as they cheered on the riders to victory. Then the crowd quieted and all eyes turned to Daario. Jaime didn’t know what they were waiting for, but he wasn’t about to find out.

_ Fuck this. _

Jaime dropped his sword and grabbed a spear from Lord Branston. At his action, Branston screamed at Jaime. “What the fuck, Kingslayer!” Running as fast as he could towards the circling Dothraki, Jaime took aim and stabbed one of the men before his arakh could reach down at Jaime. The warrior fell from his horse and caused the circling Dothraki to break formation. Gasps and jeers erupted from the crowd and Zharin began to scream. “We have not begun! We must say the words and await the command!”

Dodging another horse and narrowly missing a blade to the head, Jaime ran back to his place and grabbed his sword. When the Dothraki began to approach their group, Jaime screamed at the men. “Kneel! Cut down the horses and keep your heads low!”

Doing as instructed, the Westerosi spread outward and dropped to a knee with blades raised high. Most ducked low enough, but Lord Titus did not. An arakh sent his head flying several feet in the air, much to the delight of the crowd. Zharin screamed and ran towards the pit exit before he could be trampled. As horses fell to the ground in pain, the Dothraki leapt from their mounts. 

Jaime afforded the Dothraki to his left no time to recover. His sword sliced quickly through the man’s neck and retracted in time to block another arakh flying from his right. Steel met steel and Jaime found his sword crossed between two arakhs. Before either man could move, a sword plunged through his neck. 

As the Dothraki dropped to his knees and blood sprayed everywhere, Brienne withdrew her sword. Her eyes were as Jaime once saw them on a bridge in the Riverlands; fierce determination and controlled rage. 

With a sigh of relief, Jaime turned in time to see Ser Herbert meet the Stranger. The Dothraki’s arakhs sliced deep through his body and sent his intestines to the ground. A well placed sword to the Dothraki’s head from Ser Axell left no opportunity for the man to savor his victory. Around the pit, the Westerosi fought as Jaime and Brienne instructed. Frustrated expressions lined the faces of the Dothraki seeking to gain advantage. 

Rushing left, Jaime helped Brienne fend off another Dothraki exchanging blows with her. When his sword cut through the Dothraki’s side, Jaime’s right side became compromised. An incoming Dothraki took aim, but the killing blow never met his flesh. 

Glancing up, Jaime’s eyes went wide at the sight of a barbed morningstar in the Dothraki’s head. Brienne quickly withdrew the weapon before moving on to engage another Dothraki. Quickly appraising the field, Jaime watched as two more Dothraki fell; one at Addam’s feet and one at Ser Kent’s feet. Only four Dothraki remained to battle their group.

Unlike the Dothraki that Jaime faced across the Narrow Sea, these men were not as fearsome. Judging by the length of their braids, they had been pulled into the fighting pits for a reason. They would see no glory among their Khalasar. With such a specific reenactment in mind, it was more likely that Zharin struggled to collect such a group without earning the wrath of a strong Khalasar. 

About fifteen feet away, a Dothraki rushed towards Ser Mattix with his weapons raised high. The Stormlands knight was already engaged with another Dothraki just several feet from Jaime. Jaime dropped to a knee and grabbed his dagger while screaming at Mattix. 

“Mattix! Down, now!” Doing as instructed, Mattix just missed a killing blow to his neck from the Dothraki approaching at his back. Jaime threw his dagger as best he could with the left. His accuracy had improved greatly over the years, but it was never as well-placed as the right. 

The blade sunk into the soft flesh of the warrior’s left shoulder, making him take pause and drop one of his arakhs. While still on a knee, Mattix plunged his sword into the chest of the Dothraki he had been exchanging blows with. Then he spun around with a dagger in hand and sliced across the neck of the Dothraki that Jaime had wounded. 

With only 2 remaining Dothraki, Jaime noted nine surviving Westerosi. In the chaos, Branston had died; his blood mingling with a dead Dothraki just several feet away. 

Addam, Anson, Mattix, and Symon closed in around one Dothraki, while Jaime, Brienne, Edwin, Axell, and Kent closed in around the other. Jaime recalled the night at the inn with Tyrion before he rode out with Daenerys. As they sat together before Bronn arrived, Tyrion reprimanded Jaime for his actions on the gold road. 

_ Over 6 moons ago _

“I still can’t believe you charged a dragon with a spear! What were you thinking? You could have been killed.”

“To be fair, I charged Daenerys with a spear. The dragon got in my way.” Jaime raised a brow at Tyrion; his comment only vexing his younger brother. 

Then Tyrion’s face fell abruptly. “It was awful. Standing there and watching our… your men burn.”

“They were your men too, and you brought her here.” Jaime felt anger swell within. While he had tried to forgive Tyrion for killing their father, it still frustrated Jaime that his own brother planned against him. He had brought Aerys’ mad daughter to Westeros. 

“Well I hated it! I stood there watching and this fucking Dothraki…” Tyrion’s face scrunched in distaste and he glanced away to compose himself. “He said to me, “Your people can’t fight.’ As though it was a true test of skill. It was a slaughter won by dragonfire.”

“She’ll do it again.” Jaime’s tone was warning as he appraised his brother. He couldn’t understand Tyrion’s continued support of the young woman. He had seen enough in Daenerys’ eyes to know she was Aerys come again.

“She won’t. I won’t let her.”

  
  


Now as Jaime stared at the Dothraki before them, he sneered. “Your people can’t fight.” Moving as one, five weapons reached forward and ended the Dothraki. Jaime turned around to see the same outcome from Addam’s group of four. 

Slowly, Jaime turned to lock eyes with Daario. As the crowd sat in stunned silence, Daario stood from his chair. A small smirk tugged at his lips. “It would seem history did not repeat itself today.”

Jaime stared at Daario as his chest heaved from exertion. Like a roaring lion, he screamed at the man. “It would seem your queen forgot to send her dragon today.”

Daario scowled at the words and motioned towards the pit exit. A group of guards ran forward and shoved their group back towards the holding room. Once inside, their group stood breathless and smiling. Relief spread through the room at the realization that most survived the day; a day with an unfair advantage afforded to their opponent. 

Abruptly, the door burst open to reveal an irate Zharin with Daario at his heels. The man’s face looked ready to pop off in anger as he appraised their group. “How dare you! You give offense to the gods in this reverent place! We have a formality to things, and you…” Zharin pointed an accusing finger at Jaime before stalking towards him. “Disrespected our people and our fighting pit.” 

Jaime stood to full height and sneered at the man. He was nearly a head taller and in far better physical conditioning. “I don’t give a shit about your customs. I hardly give a shit about my own. Do you know who I am? Oathbreaker. Kingslayer. Man without honor. Fuck off with your silly traditions.” 

“You will follow our rule or I will break tradition myself and pit you against fifty men! Just as our queen and her Khalasar hold great victory over your people, I will hold great victory over you.”

Standing in the doorway, Daario watched silently as Jaime took a menacing step towards Zharin. Whether Daario cared little for Zharin or was merely entertained by it all was uncertain, but he seemed indifferent to the argument. 

“She holds no victory over me. Tell me, have you ever watched a man’s flesh melt off his face? Have you smelled the stench of burning skin moments after a man defecated himself where he stood? Have you seen your countrymen stumbling blindly towards any water source to douse the flames and ease their passing into the Stranger’s arms. Your queen holds no honorable victory over us. She ambushed my men with a fucking monster. Her gods damned Khalasar were a decorative piece at her back.”

Jaime’s voice dropped as images of the Long Night flooded his mind. “They screamed the same though… when the dead came. I watched their flames go out only moments before a handful came running back through the darkness with genuine fear on their faces and piss on their breeches. Shall we reenact that battle next? I would like to see your flame go out.” 

Zharin stepped back slowly; his eyes betraying the man’s unease. With a final look at those standing beside Jaime, the man cursed in a foreign tongue and stormed from the room. Daario’s eyes met Jaime’s from across the room. A question danced on the tip of his tongue, but he said nothing before shutting the door. 

“Provoking him isn’t very smart, Jaime.” Addam’s voice called out uneasily at his back. Turning towards his friend, Jaime raised a brow. 

“I’ve always been the stupidest Lannister. Why stop now?”

Narrowing his eyes, Addam stepped forward and grabbed Jaime’s tunic. His voice was for Jaime’s ears only. “I didn’t come all this way to watch you charge a dragon again. Play their silly game and keep quiet. You’ll do her no good dead.”


	6. The Madness of Greatness

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Daenerys reflects on things and deals with perceived treason.

Daenerys fingers tapped impatiently on the cool iron of the throne. The hall was lined with Unsullied and Dothraki warriors standing at attention and staring resolutely ahead. Aside from a muffled cough or the subtle shifting of feet, there was no sound filling the hall as roughly twenty people stood before Daenerys Targaryen.

To her side, Tyrion took a step forward and spoke gravely. “You stand in the presence of Queen Daenerys Targaryen, first of her name, queen of the Andals and the first men, Protector of the realm, the Mother of Dragons, the Khaleesi of the Great Grass sea, the Unburnt, the Breaker of Chains.”

Taking pause, Tyrion swallowed thickly; his eyes fluttering shut briefly as though the announcement pained him. It mattered little to Daenerys. Tyrion was under her watchful eye and control, and that was all that mattered.

_Let him fear me like the rest. Fear is power. He has seen what I can do, and he would do well to never forget it._

Tyrion’s voice filled the hall once more. “You have all been overheard spreading lies of a false Targaryen with claim to the throne. Our queen is the last of her House. There are no Targaryens in Westeros save for Queen Daenerys. You will inform the crown where you heard such lies, or you will face the Queen’s justice.”

Daenerys tilted her chin up as her eyes narrowed. The group amassed at the bottom of the steps were of varying stations; lords and commoners alike. All looked to one another uneasily as though afraid to speak such filth in the queen’s presence. Finally, a boy no older than five-and-ten stepped forward. His clothing was in tatters and his face covered in filth. Daenerys recognized him as lowborn and likely a farmer’s son.

“M’lord. Ya Grace. Me friends heard rumors from a household guard of me lord. He said a missive by Lord Varys’ hand told the truth of it, but I didn’t believe it. I only asked someone ya Grace, and then I was arrested.”

Tyrion glanced back wearily at Daenerys, but he knew her answer. After word came back to the crown that Varys penned several letters stating the truth of Jon’s lineage, a law was put into place to ban giving the information voice. All documents containing any mention of Jon’s lineage were ordered burned. At the Citadel, Daenerys ordered record of Rhaegar’s annulment destroyed.

With a deep breath, Tyrion looked back at the boy. “Be that as it may, the law is clear. No one is to speak aloud the false word. It is a dangerous lie that only seeks to weaken our realm. It is an offense to our queen, and the memory of her deceased brother, Prince Rhaegar, who loved his wife very much.”

The boy began to sob and nod slowly in understanding. The nineteen surrounding him began to panic. Most were men and women fully grown, but two were just as young as the boy who had spoken. One, a girl, ran forward and threw herself at the steps.

“Please, ya Grace! I didn’t say nothin’! I only heard it! I was just standin’ there!” The girl had golden and pretty eyes. She looked far too _Lannister_ for the queen’s taste.

Standing from her chair, Daenerys descended the steps slowly towards the girl. Her eyes were a violet storm moving in from the sea. In Essos, she had shown mercy. There were moments of compassion and understanding. There were also difficult decisions. All decisions held consequences; consequences that led to defiance.

_What if I was harsher in my rule? Would the Sons of the Harpy have revolted? Would ser Barristan be at my side now? Would I have lost Viserion had I not shown compassion for the false Targaryen and his Northerners? Would I have lost Rhaegal if I was firmer in the North and ensured their commitment to my cause? Missandei. Could I have saved my friend?_

“How old are you girl?”

_In Meereen, I spared those aged two-and-ten or younger. Did it matter? At what age does deceit and betrayal begin? When will this Lannister-looking girl speak against my crown next?_

“Three-and-ten, ya Grace.”

_Pity._

“Grey Worm, bring them all before the people. Their heads will speak louder than their tongues this day.”

The hall was filled with screams. A young, female voice sobbed at her back. “Ya Grace, please! Ya Grace!”

_Mhysa. Mhysa. Mhysa._

Shaking her head to remove the echo of her people, Daenerys clenched her teeth.

_No! These Westerosi threaten my rule. They speak treason and seek to weaken my crown. They back him._

Him. Jon Snow; now Jon Stark. The man Daenerys once thought her love and ally, was now little more than a would-be Robert. A would-be usurper. Even still, Daenerys could not bring herself to kill or exile him. Throughout her effort to reclaim the very crown stolen from her House, Jon did what she asked.

He fought at her side and commanded the men during the battle in King’s Landing. In the days that followed, he took her orders and forced the North to bend. To quell any thought of dissension, Daenerys legitimized him as a Stark just as she legitimized Gendry as a Baratheon. She proclaimed him Ned Stark’s son with some tavern whore. Loathe as she was to admit it, Daenerys needed Jon.

The North had bent to Jon, and he to her. They recognized the boy who grew up at Winterfell as Ned Stark’s bastard, and she would see it confirmed as such. Daenerys was no fool. If she killed Jon, the North would prove _difficult_.

Further, she could not risk the North turning to Sansa for instruction. The girl said and did all the right things after Daenerys took her crown. Sansa bent the knee and mumbled her apologies for her cool demeanor at Winterfell. Pretty words spilled from Sansa’s lips when Daenerys held audience with her and Jon just days after the coronation.

_‘My grandfather and uncle were burned alive in this very room by your father. They had committed no crime to warrant such punishment. House Lannister was equally cruel. It may not have been fire and blood, but it was steel and blood. My people have suffered at the hands of southern rulers, but if Jon says that is not your way, I will follow my brother.’_

Both knew the danger of rebelling. They had seen fire and blood. Were it not for Daenerys, her army, and her dragons, they would have died in the Long Night. Unlike Sansa, Jon was true. Daenerys thought that she could still trust him, and so he became Lord of Winterfell and Warden of the North. Still, she needed House Stark divided.

Bran was kept on as Master of Whisperers. The young man unnerved Daenerys, but like Tyrion, he needed monitoring. Further, she recognized the value of his powers. If Daenerys could sway Bran to her, she would never face a true threat again. She needed Bran to survive just as she needed Jon to keep the North in line.

The youngest, Arya, was missing. No one had seen or heard from the girl since the city fell. Many believed her dead among the rubble at the city gates, and just a fortnight prior, a corpse that sent Sansa to her knees confirmed as much. While Daenerys had kept the dragons from destroying the city, she did not hesitate to use them to topple the city walls hosting the scorpions. Groups of workers were actively rebuilding the destroyed sections of the city walls while Daenerys held court atop her throne.

Daenerys reflected on the battle and felt a gut-wrenching agony that she had otherwise pushed to the deepest recesses of her mind. Losing Viserion and Jorah had been the first cuts to the arteries pumping warm blood through her body. The pain was much to bear, but Daenerys reminded herself that even Jorah too had erred along the way. Jorah’s loyalty had been contrived at a time. As much as his death destroyed her, she wondered if it would prevent further betrayal.

Then Daenerys lost Rhaegal. Another child lost to a deadly projectile. Another cut artery. Her body grew colder and her moods less predictable. One moment she felt herself; the young girl in Essos hoping to break the wheel. Another moment she felt someone else; a paranoid woman in foreign lands attempting to rule. 

When Missandei died, so too did Daenerys’ heart. Any remaining warmth stopped circulating. Everything went dark. Enemies presented themselves before Daenerys at every turn. When the bells rang out, rage consumed Daenerys. She wanted to torch everything in her path. She didn’t see people; she saw threats. Still, she held back. She remembered.

In the House of the Undying, Daenerys recalled walking through the throne room. The hall was destroyed, and ash fell from the sky. At first, she had thought it was snow. The smell had told her otherwise. Her words to Tyrion echoed in her mind when the vision pushed forward. _“I don’t want to be queen of the ashes.”_

Unlike Cersei, Daenerys wanted to rule more than a pile of dead bodies. She withheld an intense desire to pour fire and blood onto perceived threats. She would give the people a chance.

There was the matter of ensuring fealty of course. The West and the Reach had stood definitely along the gold road, and when Daenerys returned for her crown. As Tyrion had feared, burning the men did not win their loyalty. They still stood protectively before the false queen when the time came. No, Daenerys needed a different approach.

She played at compassion. She played at their game. It was false of course. By not outright killing the twins, she demonstrated an ability to rule without fire and blood. Following Tyrion’s advice, Daenerys instead approached the situation as the Westerosi might. The next in line, Tyrion, was named Lord of Casterly Rock. That would ensure control over the West just as she had control over the North.

In the Reach, Daenerys named Sam Tarly as Lord Paramount. He was a bumbling man afraid of his own shadow, but seemingly loyal. He followed Jon like a whipped dog, and despite Daenerys killing his kin, Sam bent to Daenerys. Three of her most challenging kingdoms were brought to heel; the North, the West, and the Reach.

The Stormlands would go to Gendry who only held the title on account of her generosity. It demonstrated a willingness to overlook tensions between House Baratheon and House Targaryen. The boy had no emotional connection to his own House given he was raised a bastard, and he would prove loyal. Of course, the Stormlands preferred taking direction from Lord Selwyn Tarth. The fact proved problematic, until it wasn’t.

When word of Brienne’s whorish behavior reached Selwyn’s ears, he shunned the girl. His only ask was the babe in her womb. _“Your Grace, while my daughter has dishonored our House, she is my only living heir. I lost my other children, and without that babe in her belly, my line will die. Tarth has always been ruled by Tarths. Our House has a strong, allied history with House Targaryen. I did not fight for Robert during the war against your House. I would be immensely grateful if you would allow me the babe. Allow me to keep my line going.”_

For his loyalty and willingness to enforce Gendry’s rule, Daenerys relented. It mattered little if Selwyn ever received the babe. It was her contrived mercy which would be considered. In truth, Daenerys meant for Brienne to die.

Were it not for Brienne, the Kingslayer would have been naught but ash before the dead arrived at Winterfell. Brienne stood in defense of Aerys’ murderer. From that moment, Daenerys disliked the woman, but it wasn’t why Daenerys wished her dead. 

There was something curious about the pair. Daenerys saw them together after the trial at Winterfell. The Kingslayer’s eyes lingered too long. The massive woman’s face blushed too much. The men said they fought together in the Long Night, and she observed the pair at the feast when Tyrion left her side to join his treasonous brother. Soft smiles and longing stares. When Daenerys heard that the Kingslayer wished to remain in the North, Daenerys startled. Rumors swirled among the Northmen. Kingslayer’s Whore. 

Her mind recalled the strange exchange between Sansa’s sworn sword and the Kingslayer at the dragonpit. She began to wonder at their relationship. Then the mannish woman’s belly began to swell while sitting in the cells. She knew. They were in love, or at least, Brienne was in love. Looking at the woman, it was hard to fathom a man such as the Kingslayer could love her in return. 

It was why Brienne had to die. In the House of the Undying, the prophecy was clear. _‘Three treasons you will know… Once for blood, once for gold, and once for love.’_

One treason was for blood. Mirri Maz. She used bloodmagic to kill her unborn child and left a curse upon her womb. One treason for gold. Jorah. He was hired to spy on her and report back to the crown in exchange for safe return home when the time came. One treason for love. Brienne. She would commit treason to save her love, Jaime Lannister. Daenerys knew in the deepest parts of herself that Brienne would cross the Narrow Sea to help her love escape. Together, they would return and the Kingslayer would kill the last dragon. 

_No, I'll not allow 'treason for love'. Unrequited love at that. Ugly fool. I’ll exile her with her love and his true love. She’ll be forced to watch the Lannister twins in Essos together. They’ll all suffer for it. I can hardly be faulted by the Tarth lord if the girl dies when I mercifully gave her life in exile._

Daenerys knew that the Kingslayer would die soon enough in the fighting pits. He was a man with only one hand, and no allies. As for Cersei, Daenerys wanted the woman to experience exile as she had, but worse. She wanted her serving the filthiest of the nobles in Meereen. To this day, Daenerys recalled the smell of him. Lazyn Dhazak.

The man was disgusting and carried disease. He soiled himself throughout the day, and he rarely left his estate as result of the incontinence. Cersei would be doomed to a life in squalor serving filth. Her babe would be raised as a bastard cleaning out Daenerys’ own chamber pots. Death would be too kind for Cersei. She would lose her brother-lover to the fighting pits, and her child would suffer a similar fate as her; powerless, nameless, and enslaved.

Daenerys was the breaker of chains for the people, but a forger of chains for the unworthy. Whether chains wrapped around their necks to squeeze the life from their treasonous bodies, or served to shackle their power, the decision was like flipping a coin.

Daenerys recalled her instructions to Daario and Zharin with great joy.

_Darrio,_

_I send to you prisoners found guilty of treason, deceit, and attempts on my life. Of all the prisoners, there are three that I would ask you to watch closely. The ugly woman, Brienne, is with child by the man who murdered my father and tried to murder me. He means to murder me again. The ugly woman aided his escape so that he could join the fight against me and return to the false queen, his sister-lover. Brienne is to be assigned to the fighting pits. If her babe is born before she dies, I want it taken before she can hold it. In my mercy, I have promised the babe to the woman’s father._

_The Lannister twins must be monitored closely. As you know, the Kingslayer broke his oaths to my father and killed him. The Kingslayer and his sister refused to bend. Through their actions and orders, they are responsible for the death of Jorah, Rhaegal, and Missasndei. They broke an oath to send their army in a war against a common enemy, and it almost cost my life, just as it cost Jorah his life. Just as it cost the lives of most of our men. Then they had Rhaegal shot from the sky and Missandei executed before my eyes._

_Like Brienne’s babe, I want Cersei’s babe taken at birth. In my mercy, the babe will be raised with her uncle, Tyrion, in King’s Landing. You know I would not kill a child, but I cannot risk that child trying to reclaim my throne. I want Cersei assigned to Lazyn Dhazak._

_None of these prisoners may know any luxuries for all they have done to harm our friends, and for the threat they made against my life. I’m so sorry that you must hear of the deaths of our friends by letter, but I am unable to visit Meereen at this time. There is much to do for the people here, as the false queen left the realm in shambles. Luckily, I saved them all and will break the wheel._

_I am sending instruction to Zharin for a special reenactment in the fighting pits. I’ll send him instruction from time to time which must be followed._

Of course, the letter had gone on with instructions and assignments. When court concluded, Daenerys made her way towards small council chambers. The castle was dark and somber; a permanent reflection of her mood. From her side, Tyrion walked with his eyes downcast. He was a man broken with his brother in exile, and his friends browbeaten. He would never betray her again. She had his loyalty and his mind.

Moving into the room, Daenerys appraised her council. Ser Davos was Master of Ships, Bran was Master of Whisperers, Tyrion was Lord Hand, Grey Worm was Lord Commander, and Ser Bronn Master of Laws. It had come to Daenerys’ attention that Bronn had threatened to kill the Lannister brothers, but he spared them in exchange for a castle. A castle that Tyrion had no place to offer.

Of course, any man who wished the Lannisters dead, was a friend to the crown. After speaking with Bronn, Daenerys saw how easy it was to win his loyalty. While Sam would be Lord Paramount of the Reach, Daenerys did honor Bronn with Highgarden in exchange for his loyalty. He would serve as the Queen’s Justice. While all laws would be made by Daenerys, Bronn would enact them and look after the prisoners.

Davos, like Sam, seemed loyal to whatever commands Jon gave. When Jon gave Davos the order to bend, the aged knight bent. Further, he was from the Stormlands and could help monitor the uneasy alliance with Lord Selwyn Tarth. Davos would ensure that Gendry was accepted in the Stormlands, and the aged knight seemed eager to do so having once served Stannis Baratheon.

Like Bronn, Davos was lowborn. Daenerys preferred to surround herself with commoners rather than nobles. The nobles of Westeros had proven deceitful. Like those across the Narrow Sea, they had self-serving interests. In that regard, Daenerys considered her small council the closest she could have to a trustworthy group. Two were lowborn, one a disowned noble, one a noble who fancied himself a bird, and the only living person she truly trusted, Grey Worm; Torgo Nudho.

Daenerys did not trust anyone other than Torgo, but she needed them. Without Missandei, there was no advice she could truly believe as well-intentioned. Instead, she would hear their words and take her own approach. As queen, her say would be final. They would have no true autonomy, and Grey Worm would ensure they were all monitored. The small council rose at Daenerys’ entry; all but Bran of course. With formal bows and tight smiles, they met their queen’s mistrusting eyes. As Daenerys took her seat, she immediately began her line of questioning.

“Ser Davos, what of repairs to the port?”

The attack against Euron left some sections of the port in tatters. Daenerys wanted to ensure the port was well-restored to encourage trade with the east. While the Westerosi had yet to earn Daenerys’ trust, she felt more comfortable in diplomatic relations with Essos. She felt a stronger sense for who she could and could not trust across the Narrow Sea.

“Comin’ along, ya Grace. I reckon within a fortnight the last dock will be restored. We’ve also been workin’ hard on the new ships.”

With a nod, Daenerys turned to Bran. “What of the fighting pits? By now, they should have held the first match. Tell me, did history repeat itself?”

A strange smile tugged at the young man’s lips, though Daenerys often wondered if he felt human emotion. “A different outcome, though the same commander on the side of the Westerosi. Ser Jaime led them to victory. This time, his spear aimed true.”

Daenerys felt rage brewing within. Her lips pressed into a thin line and she felt her hands shake with rage under the table. To her side, Tyrion sagged in relief. It took everything in Daenerys not to call for his head, but she swallowed the wrath and asked her next question coolly. “Do all the exiled fighters live?” _Does Brienne?_

Bran held Daenerys’ eyes. His face was the picture of indifference as he replied. “Lord Branston, Ser Herbert, and Lord Titus were killed. The rest live until next week’s match.”

“Lord Tyrion.” Daenerys’ voice was clipped as she addressed her Hand. “Remind me, did I or did I not strip the guilty of their lands and titles.”

“You did, your Grace.”

Daenerys hummed in reply. “Why then does Lord Bran afford them titles when naming the dead?”

Before Tyrion could think of a response for which there was none, Bran spoke. “Did you not afford yourself titles when living in Exile, your Grace? Were you no longer the Princess of Dragonstone when chased east? If a title frightens you to such an extent, then you should have killed them when you had the chance. You could no sooner take away their names, just as Lord Commander Torgo Nudho never forgot his.”

Turning to Grey Worm, Bran spoke ominously. “Then again… Grey Worm. It is a lucky name. The name this one was born to was accursed. That was the name he had when he was taken for a slave.”

At Torgo’s words from a lifetime ago, Daenerys paled. Her eyes moved slowly to Torgo as he sat rigid in his seat. His lips parted slightly, but no words spilled forth.

Glancing back at Bran, Daenerys felt the familiar chill set in. It wasn’t just because of Bran’s powers that Daenerys kept him alive. It was for fear. The last time she killed a witch for treason, she lost her love, her babe, and her womb. When Daenerys looked at Bran, she saw Mirri Maz. She would not kill him, because she feared him. She feared that his demise would bring about her own. With no husband nor babe left to claim, the only thing left to give was her life.

_Keep him powerless. Keep him close. Grant him no allies nor resources. If he tries to amass allies, burn them all._


	7. The Cruelty of Dragons

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Brienne is assigned to a new form of punishment in exile.

The fighters stood before Daario outside the main hall. Two days prior, they had endured a second round in the fighting pits. Matches were weekly and Brienne quickly grew to fear the day. It wasn’t her own life she fought for, but the life of her babe. She prayed to the gods that her father would keep the babe safe and love the child despite her failures as a daughter.

Glancing around, Brienne considered how quickly their group was weakening. In the first challenge that Daenerys set before them, they lost three fighters. Two days ago, they were fortunate to survive individual matches, but everyone was battered and tired.

Daario paced up and down while appraising their group. He held a letter in hand with a broken seal bearing the royal sigil. Daenerys had written again. 

“Wonderful news. Rather than wasting away on your days off, you are to serve. Queen Daenerys has instructed that I assign all of you to a local House in need of more hands. Addam and Axell, you have been assigned to the estate of House Galare. Symon and Mattix, you have been assigned to the estate of House Reznak. Ken and Herbert, you have been assigned to the estate of House Uhlez. Jaime and Brienne, you have been assigned to the estate of House Dhazak.”

Brienne closed her eyes and grumbled in annoyance. It all seemed a good laugh at her expense, as now she would serve beside Jaime and Cersei. At six and a half moons pregnant, Brienne had believed her life could not possibly get worse. The gods accepted her unspoken challenge.

For the past fortnight, Jaime had tried to speak with Brienne daily. The only reprieve from his desperate pleas came when they arrived at the fighting pit. Were it not for the threat to her unborn child, Brienne would have treasured those days most. 

Daarios’ voice brought her back to the present. “The carriages will drop you off daily with the others, and they will retrieve you when the day of work is done. If you are not outside when the guards arrive to bring you home, you will receive the same punishment afforded to the others. Lashes to the back. I do not recommend earning the whip when your day in the fighting pit arrives. Don’t be late.”

Without another word, their group was pushed towards the hall to eat before beginning the day. Jaime walked close at Brienne’s side and spoke in hushed tones. “At least we’ll be together. I can help your with tasks that cause you discomfort.”

“Or you can help your love. I’m certain she doesn’t care for manual labor and relishes the opportunity of having you to serve under her. If she’ll have you.”

Brienne’s tone was harsh as she threw Jaime’s words from Winterfell back at him. She had never considered herself a hateful person, but a twinge of remorse struck her then. As soon as the words left her lips, Brienne regretted them.

_He never spoke false words of love. He never made empty promises. I’ve no right to act as though anything he offered at Winterfell meant something more. It only meant something to me. Never him._

Before she could apologize, the guards were shoving her towards the table. The group assigned to serve were already eating, and it was clear that their group would be afforded no additional time for the delay forced upon them.

Taking a seat between an unknown nobleman and Ser Mattix, Brienne ate quickly and stewed in silence. Their group had fallen into foul moods given the latest decree from Daenerys. After fighting in the pits, their bodies were sore and needed the time to recover until the next match. Now they would be forced to serve on their days off. Brienne shuddered at the thought of all it would entail. 

When they made their way outside after the rushed meal, Brienne walked slowly towards the awaiting carriages. Just ahead, Cersei complained at Jaime’s side. Brienne could not make out the words, but it was clear that the twins were not pleased about something. 

Aside from Cersei, a nobleman from the West had been assigned to work at the same estate. The man’s name was Lord Horace, though Brienne could not recall the House. He was in his forties with dirty blonde hair, dark blue eyes, and a misshapen body. The lord’s shoulders and belly were oversized for his short, thin legs. It was evident that his body had not seen battle nor manual labor of any variety, but rather a lifetime on a chair with household staff to tend to him.

The guards shoved them towards the carriage. Lord Horace offered his hand to help Cersei; the act appearing familiar and built on routine. When Brienne approached, Lord Horace hesitated and extended his hand. The expression on Horace’s face was one that Brienne often received from lords and ladies in Westeros. No one knew what to make of her. They questioned if she should be extended courtly formalities befitting a lady, or avoided altogether as sailors might Valyria.

Breaking eye contact to avoid awkwardness, Brienne stared at her feet on approach. The cart shifted slightly as Horace lifted himself inside. When she was confident that Horace was in the carriage and seated, Brienne lifted her head to reach for the wooden rail of the carriage to hoist herself up. 

Brienne startled at the feel of a hand on her elbow. Glancing to her right, Brienne observed Jaime at her side. She had not noticed him linger behind after getting an earful from Cersei. “Ignore Horace. Cersei has him trained. The only thing he ever offers aid to is his own cause.”

When she moved into the carriage, Brienne took a seat near Horace, assuming that Jaime would sit beside Cersei. Her eyes went wide when he instead wedged himself between her and Horace. 

Cersei huffed in annoyance and pointed beside her. “You fools will tip the carriage! Jaime, get over here.”

“Your head should be of sufficient size to keep balance.” Jaime’s tone was disinterested as he reached into his pocket and handed Brienne his ration of grapes. 

Speaking in hushed tones through gritted teeth, Brienne scolded him. “What are you doing?”

“Going for a carriage ride. You?”

_Seven hells. Don’t pull me into your spat with your sister._

With a heavy sigh, Horace moved across the carriage and beside Cersei. The former queen narrowed her eyes at Jaime before glancing at Brienne. Sarcasm dripped from her tone as she leaned forward and smiled snidely at Brienne. “Lord Lazyn has goats and sheep on his farm. He’ll be delighted to receive a new cow.”

Brienne’s body stiffened at the words and she bit her tongue. She was not a witty woman and found herself ill-equipped to exchange verbal barbs with Cersei. Leaning back against the carriage, Brienne tried to make herself appear small. The effort proved as effective as trying to hide a dragon behind Tyrion.

“That’s not very nice to say about Lord Horace...” Jaime stretched out his legs and crossed his arms; his tone was laced with indifference as he tilted his head at Cersei. “...particularly after he afforded you treatment befitting a lady, which I can assure you, you are not.”

Cersei’s eyes danced with range as she stared at her twin. The tension between them was palpable, and Brienne wanted little more than to be back at the fighting pit. She wondered if their relationship was always like this, or if it was a symptom of the stress caused by their situation. 

The carriage lurched forward as they made their way towards the Ghiscari hills. The wealthiest in Meereen lived in the area; their sprawling estates teeming with servants to tend their lands and household. An awkward silence settled over their foursome as Jaime tried once more to shove the grapes into Brienne’s hand.

He leaned close and whispered. “Please, before Horace assaults me for them. He looks extra hungry today.”

Brienne rolled her eyes at the words. The situation was awkward, and Brienne considered that not taking the grapes might only draw added attention to them. She didn’t wish to find herself targeted by Cersei again. Taking the grapes, Brienne’s eyes darted across the cart. Cersei was looking out the back of the carriage and muttering to herself. Horace seemed occupied picking at newly formed scabs on his hands.

Muttering her thanks, Brienne took the grapes. Jaime’s hand lingered a moment too long on hers; his thumb brushing lightly over her own. The movement reminded her of Harrenhal with Roose, and of Winterfell at the victory feast. She hated herself for softening at the touch. A familiar jolt ran through her body everytime Jaime’s hand grazed her own. 

Brienne felt pathetic. After all Jaime had done to emphasize his disinterest in her, Brienne still felt her body threatening to swoon. Her cheeks flushed in embarrassment as she looked away. The carriage moved rhythmically up the hill and soon, they reached their destination. 

When they stepped outside the carriage, Brienne gasped at the view. From the estate, she could see all of Meereen. The grounds were stunning with lush gardens and fertile fields. If Brienne closed her eyes, she wondered if she could pretend it was Tarth. She wondered if she could encourage her nose to catch the smell of the sea in the distance and take her back to more carefree days when she ran from Evenfall to the cliffs. She supposed it didn’t matter.

Her own father saw no value in her. Tarth belonged to Brienne as much as the babe she would birth in 2.5 moons. As their group moved into the estate, Brienne marveled at how vast it was. Ornate, bronze decor lined the walls and tables. Warmth from the sun’s rays kissed her skin as they walked down a light corridor. 

When they reached a large greeting room, Brienne saw a group of servants lined up and an older woman standing before them. She had long, braided hair and painted nails. Her flowing robes were varying shades of green; the color reminding her of Jaime’s eyes. The woman appeared stern, yet formal. When they approached, she eyed Jaime and Brienne before speaking.

“Follow me. Lazyn wishes to see the new servants before we assign the daily tasks.”

Cersei grumbled as they went; she leaned slightly into Jaime and spoke. “The smell of him leaks into the halls. He makes Robert seem godly in comparison.”

It struck Brienne odd how one moment the twins could spit venom at one another, and the next they could commiserate as though not a single trouble existed between them. The walk through the estate stretched on forever. Unlike Evenfall, the estate was one level, but filled with winding corridors. The walls were a light stone, and ample sunlight flowed in from floor to ceiling windows at each side. When at last they came to a room, the woman paused to knock. 

A voice with a thick accent called out. “Enter.”

As the door opened, the stench hit Brienne first. While the room itself was light and airy, it’s occupant stood in stark contrast. In the middle of a massive room with flowing drapes and open doors that led out to a large terrace, a rotund, foul-smelling man with horned hair and harsh eyes stared at them from a bed. He wore a Ghiscari tokar in a deep emerald similar to the woman who escorted them in. 

Seated on the bed was a woman who appeared half the man’s age. The woman was thin, but possessed womanly curves. She had long hair and angry eyes. It was clear that she did not care for the additional hands. 

Before Brienne could appraise the room and it’s occupants further, the foul-smelling man’s rough voice called out angrily. “What are these!? You bring me a cripple and another pregnant whore!?”

Brienne bristled at the words, but the woman who escorted them seemed accustomed to his outburst. “More assignments from Queen Daenerys. The cripple is the false queen’s brother-lover. The other pregnant one fancies herself some kind of warrior. When they’re not serving in the fighting pits, Queen Daenerys wants them here.”

The man rolled and scooted his body towards the edge of the bed. His movement came with great effort and a light sweat dripped from his forehead. As he approached, Brienne felt Jaime shuffle closer at her side. Glancing at his face, she could see a tense set to Jaime’s jaw and anger in his eyes. 

A pungent odor captured Brienne’s attention. The man before her had putrid breath, a sheen of sweat coating his exposed, hairy chest, and a yellow tint to the whites of his eyes. A finger reached out towards her for inspection. The nail was long, thick, and yellow, and it smelled as awful as the rest of him. His finger touched Brienne’s chin and pushed her head to the side. “A man-woman. Clearly you’ve no cock down there or you’d not be a pregnant whore.”

Brienne swallowed thickly and she tried to hold her breath. Jaime’s shoulder moved before her and he spoke through gritted teeth. “Don’t touch her.”

At Jaime’s words, the man snarled. “Don’t forget yourself! I’ll have the guards teach you a proper lesson. So… you’re the false queen’s brother. I’m to have two nobles serve me here. Tell me, without the second hand, can you do anything other than fuck your sister or are you entirely without use?”

Without awaiting reply, the man walked towards the bed and pulled the linens away. The woman on the edge of the bed nearly fell at the action, but she steadied herself and stood quickly. The sheets had awful stains and a horrible smell. Throwing the sheets at Jaime, the man sneered. “Go on! Make that hand useful and wash my linens.”

Brienne felt bile rise in her throat as the stench wafted through the air. The sheets hit Jaime’s chest and arms and Cersei began to gag at the sight and smell. As the escort guided them quickly into the hall, Jaime dropped the linens to the floor and struggled not to vomit. 

The woman snapped at Jaime and glared at him with menacing eyes. “Pick those up! You heard the master! Get Lazyn’s thing washed.” 

To Jaime’s left, Cersei covered her nose and mouth and barked at Horace. “Uh, gods. Horace, get the sheets!”

The man grumbled, but stepped forward and picked up the soiled linens. Without a word, he set off down the hallway. Any warmth and light in the estate seemed to abandon the space after meeting Lazyn. The man was cruel and disgusting. Brienne had an overwhelming urge to scratch at her skin where the man’s nail touched her face. 

With Cersei, Jaime, and Brienne standing in the hall, the escort called out to two young women standing by a pillar. “Azlek! Tynor! Over here.”

The two girls moved forward quickly and silently. They stood before the escort and awaited instruction. “Take these three to the fields. They’re to clean up after the animals before tending to the master.”

With polite smiles and bows of the head, the two young women guided them outside and towards the enclosure where the livestock were kept. Both young women appeared no older than the master’s wife. They were thin and weary looking, but quite beautiful. Brienne hoped they were not ill-treated by their master or the guards. She hated to see others taken advantage of or treated poorly.

When they reached the enclosure, the women handed them buckets and small shovels. One of the women spoke in clipped tones. She had a heavy accent and tired eyes. “Pick up shit. Then come to shed when done.”

The three of them stepped into the enclosure and the gate was latched behind them. Cersei groaned in distaste as their boots sank into the mud. “Jaime, tell your little friend to tend to her cousin’s filth. I’m not touching it. Horace usually does this for me.”

“Shovel it yourself. If you speak of Brienne again, I’ll ensure you shovel all the shit.”

_How can they speak like this and claim to love each other. They truly are hateful._

Stepping away from Cersei, Jaime did as the woman instructed. A shovel struck Jaime in the back and Brienne turned to see Cersei glaring at him; her shovel no longer in hand. “What has gotten into you!? You act like you care about this cow.”

Picking up Cersei’s shovel, Jaime scooped some of the animal’s droppings onto it. Without a word, Jaime flicked the shovel towards Cersei; the shit flying through the air and straight into Cersei’s face.

Brienne’s jaw dropped at the sight. A high pitched scream pushed past Cersei’s lips and her hands flailed dramatically. “Get it off! Jaime! Get it off!”

“I said, do not insult her!” Jaime’s face shone with rage as he glared at his shit-covered sister. His scowl turned into a smirk as he took in the state of her. “Fitting really. Nothing but shit drips from your lips anyway.” Jaime turned around and returned to the task at hand. 

Cersei stormed across the muddy field with her fists balled tightly. “Jaime, it’s not funny! Wipe it off with your tunic!”

Ignoring Cersei’s complaint, Jaime moved further away from her. The chase went on for some time with Cersei screaming at Jaime and him ignoring her. Other staff members tending the fields watched in confusion at the Westerosi arguing in the animals’ pen. 

Concentrating on herself, Brienne shoveled the shit into the bucket. She tried to hold her breath, but the stench was overwhelming. Eventually Cersei’s screams turned to sobs and she dropped to the mud dramatically. 

With Jaime ignoring her in the distance, Brienne stood with a sigh and walked towards her. Crouching at Cersei’s side, Brienne took the bottom of the former queen’s skirt and lifted it to her face to remove the excrement. 

“Compose yourself! You used to be a queen and you’re behaving like a child. Enough.” Without another word, Brienne returned to the section she was tending to. At her back, Brienne heard Cersei scream with rage. 

“You used my dress!” 

Biting back a smile, Brienne renewed her work. A presence at her side startled her. She prepared for some form of retaliation for what Cersei deemed inadequate aid. Glancing left, Brienne was surprised to see Jaime crouch beside her. 

“Let me do the rest. You shouldn’t be dealing with this.”

Brienne didn’t want his help. She didn’t want his pity or his guilt. The decision was hers to lay with him at Winterfell. All that befell her after that was of her own doing. 

“It’s my fate as much as everyone else’s. I made my own decisions to earn this.”

Jaime dropped the shovel; his left hand stilling Brienne’s arm. “No, you didn’t. It’s my fault.”

Brienne refused to reply. She was not going to indulge _that_ conversation, just as he tried to raise it every moment they were alone. It was clear what she was to Jaime, and Brienne didn’t need pretty words to try and lessen any guilt he felt. 

When Brienne shut down, Jaime seemed to sense the growing emotional distance. He sighed heavily and glanced back at Cersei. “You shouldn’t have helped her. She was unnecessarily cruel to you.”

“Well she was carrying on for quite some time, and… I’m not hateful.”


	8. The Stress of Waiting

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Another day in the fighting pit and Jaime grows anxious waiting.

Another week had passed in Meereen and the group of fighters was back at the fighting pit. Jaime wondered which was worse. Serving Lazyn or facing death. They were beginning to feel the same. 

As Jaime exited the fighting pit from his match, his mind wandered to Brienne. Jaime had been the third to fight that day. They pitted him against a fighter from Yunkai. The match did not last long after Jaime shoved his sword through the man’s spine. 

Through it all, Daario sat smugly in the stands. He was a peculiar man, and Jaime cared little for him. Unlike the rest of Daenerys’ Unsullied, Dothraki, and Second Sons, Daario didn’t seem angry. He seemed amused by it all. The man’s attitude only served to enrage Jaime. 

_ This is a game for him. Watching people fight for their lives is a sport. Of course he would be Daenerys’ second in command. _

Shoving past guards to enter the holding room, Jaime glanced around and saw Mattix and Axell tending to their cuts. Watching the men blot the bleeding reminded Jaime of two days prior at Lazyn’s estate. He, Brienne, Horace, and Cersei were instructed to help in the olive fields under the scorching sun. 

  
  


_ Two days prior _

The heat was unbearable, and Jaime worried for both women. For all the hate he felt towards Cersei, he still loved her as a sister. She carried an innocent, his babe, and she was in a vulnerable position. Still, his eyes trailed Brienne throughout the day.

Jaime ensured that Brienne stayed hydrated in the heat. Instead of taking his own share of water from the bucket they were given to drink from, Jaime encouraged Brienne to drink his share. She refused at first, but he used the babe to convince her.  _ ‘You need to drink for the babe.’  _ When Brienne’s shoulders began to burn in the sun, Jaime removed his tunic and draped it over her exposed arms. 

They had not been afforded a change of clothing since arriving, and her arms and shoulders were exposed to the elements. Again Brienne had refused him, but Jaime insisted.  _ ‘You can’t fight with a sunburn. For the babe…’ _

Inwardly, Jaime worried for Brienne after the babe was born. For now she would do everything to protect the innocent in her womb. Once the babe was stolen from her, Jaime worried that she may give up. The spark in her eyes was still gone, and her words remained clipped.

As they worked the fields, Cersei’s complaining lessened and her voice sounded strange. Jaime turned and noted her stumbling on her feet; her face ashen and her forehead coated in sweat. Rushing to Cersei, Jaime tried to cushion her fall. On the way to the ground, Cersei fumbled with the garden shears and sliced her thigh. Jaime called for aid and two workers brought Cersei inside. 

They treated the wound, and Cersei managed to procure extra medicine from the healer. The healer at Daario’s holding did only the minimum required to keep them alive, but not comfortable.

Now as Jaime waited in the holding room, he paced. Axell grumbled and ran a hand through his hair. “Would you sit down! You’re giving me a headache.”

“Perhaps you didn’t notice, but there is a pregnant woman preparing to fight out there.”

Axell snorted and shook his head. “What’s it to you?”

“Everything!” At Jaime’s outburst, Axell put up defensive hands. He leaned back against the wall and sighed heavily. As Jaime resumed pacing, Mattix called out from the corner. “She’s stronger than any of us; even pregnant.”

Jaime glanced back at the man. His arms were crossed and he was slouched against the wall, but his eyes were fixed on the door. 

An eternity seemed to pass before the door opened again. Edwin moved in slowly. He was covered in dirty and blood, but it didn’t appear to be his own. When he appraised the room, his brows furrowed. 

“Ser Symon fought before me. I don’t imagine he stepped out for a bath.”

_ Fuck. There goes another one. _

Jaime rubbed at his temples and took a seat. The waiting was torture, and the uncertainly of when Brienne would fight had him on edge. There were too many unknowns swirling in Jaime’s mind.

_ What kind of fighter would they put against her? What weapons will she use? Does she know how to counter the weapon used against her? Can she move well enough in that fucking dress?  _

Jaime leaned against the wall. The cool stone felt incredible on his sunburned shoulders. His skin had always tanned well in the sun and resulted in a golden hue coating his body. The sun in Meereen felt stronger however; more oppressive. 

Soon the door opened again and Jaime leapt to his feet. Anson. 

_ Gods dammit! I swear Daario is doing this on purpose. _

“Did anyone fight before you?” Jaime’s tone was desperate as he stared at the knight from the Stormlands. Anson shook his head in reply and slumped to the bench. With a groan, Anson stretched out his leg.

“Fucking cunt smashed my thigh with some shit hammer.” At Anson’s words, Mattix chuckled. 

“Come now, you took ample war hammers to the body from the Baratheons over the years. It should remind you of home.” 

The men had a familiarity that spoke to years fighting together. Listening to them banter back and forth for some time reminded Jaime of Addam. The redheaded knight was a better friend than Jaime felt he deserved. Addam  _ certainly  _ didn’t deserve this misery, and the lack of context for what was happening in Westeros unnerved Jaime.

_ What if Tyrion, Sansa, and Selwyn fail? What if they’re already dead? This could go on forever. _

The door opened once more and Kent stepped inside. He clapped Anson’s shoulder as he walked by. “Nice work on whatever that  _ thing  _ was. They were dragging it away when I entered after you.”

Anson snorted. “I’m still trying to figure it out myself. Looked like one of those awful Wildlings that came south with the fucking Northmen.”

At the words, Mattix leaned forward and smirked at Jaime. “Anson, was it a redhead? I wonder if Daenerys sent over a certain Wildling after learning of his  _ affections _ .”

It was clear they were referring to Tormund. The Stormlands knights snickered and Jaime couldn’t help but wonder how they knew. His eyes narrowed at Mattix.

“What do you know of Tormund?”

Mattix flashed an innocent smile and shrugged in feigned ignorance. “What is a  _ Tormund _ ?”

“Fuck off, Mattix! Are the Wildings going to help the North and Stormlands?”

With a heavy sigh, Mattix removed any trace of jest from his tone. “They care for the new queen as much as my lord. They’re helping the cause. A certain Wildling was ready to come here himself, but Lady Sansa didn't think it wise. She thought the pair of you might kill one another off, and then we’d have two less people to keep Ser Brienne alive. I must say… as beastly as he is, I prefer the man to you. He doesn’t seem as… what’s the word? Arrogant? No. That isn’t it, though accurate. Obnoxious? No, still accurate, but not the word. Ah, yes!  _ Iincestous _ .”

Jaime leapt from his seat, but before he could pounce on Mattix, the door flew open. A beaming Addam sauntered into the room. “Did you miss me? Fear not, I’m back. I just had to entertain the masses. I think they’re starting to like me.”

For as much as Jaime wished to shove his fist into Mattix’s smug face, he was relieved to see Addam. “What did you have?”

“An Unsullied. What can I say? He didn’t have the stones to beat me.”

Axell groaned in distaste. “I think you misunderstand the parts they’re missing. I’m surprised his spear didn’t silence that mouth of yours.”

Addam feigned offense at the man’s lack of confidence. “I am from the West. Unlike you flowers, we don’t wilt in the sun.”

“My House sigil is a fox, you dolt!” Axell sat upright and spat at Addam, but Jaime’s childhood friend only laughed.

“A fox among a field of flowers if I recall. All you knights from the Reach are the same to me. All bark and no bite. Loras got his ass handed to him by Ser Brienne, did he not? Wasn’t he supposed to be the best of you?”

Jaime smiled widely at the words. A feeling of pride blossomed in his chest at the thought of Brienne defeating Loras in a melee. The thought reminded him of the bet the men had referenced on the day of their arrival in Meereen. 

Glancing at the Stormlands knights, Jaime considered them for a moment. “What was that bet made about Brienne?”

All mirth was sucked from the room at the question. The knights looked uneasily at one another with no one moving to reply. It was Axell who spoke, though unlike the first time he raised the topic, there was no amusement in his voice. “It was on her maidenhead. That’s what I heard.”

With a heavy sigh, Mattix finally provided the context that Jaime was missing. His tone was laced with disgust as he recounted the tale. “Ser Ben started it. He and other knights from the Reach made wagers on who could win her maidenhead as a jape. They pretended to court her.”

Jaime felt his heart sink.  _ Did she think I did it all as a jape too?  _

Rage quickly replaced guilt. Glaring at Axell and Edwin, Jaime snarled. “Were the two of you part of it!?”

Axell scoffed and leaned forward. “You dolt! I served Stannis! Of course not.”

“I wasn’t even there. Leave me be, Kingslayer.” Edwin huffed in annoyance and stretched his back. “Lord Tarly put a stop to it anyway. She was too much of a distraction to the men.”

“A distraction!? By being a woman among a sea of worthless men playing at knight! She’s worth more than all of you combined.” Jaime snarled at the man, but Addam backed him up slowly towards the bench. 

“Alright, Jaime. Let it go. It wasn’t these dolts.” 

Edwin raised a brow at Jaime and smirked. “If I didn’t know any better, I’d think you jealous for not having the honor. Seems someone beat you to it.”

Jaime wanted to scream and claim Brienne and his babe, but it wasn’t his place. He knew it would only upset Brienne, and he had done enough of that for one lifetime. Judging by the reaction of the Stormlands knights, they knew. He wondered if Selwyn or Sansa told them. Keeping his mouth shut, Jaime sat down and clamped his mouth shut. He could feel the displeased glared of Mattix, Anson, and Kent.

Staring at the door, Jaime resumed his worrying. Addam sat at his side and spoke quietly. “When I was leaving the pit, the next opponent came in to await her. I don’t know where that thing is from, but he looked a head taller than me and as wide as the Mountain.”

Jaime’s eyes went wide and his breathing began to labor. Every part of him wanted to scream and run to the pit to protect Brienne, but the guards always kept the door locked from the outside. Too much time was passing and Jaime grew worried. His leg began to shake nervously as he stared at the door willing it to open and Brienne to step inside. 

At last, the door creaked open. Jaime held his breath and stood from his seat. The Stormlands knights and Addam did the same as all eyes remained fixed on the door. Zharin entered and Jaime felt his world crumble around him. His legs began to sway underneath him, and Addam’s hand gripped his elbow in support.

Before Jaime could scream, Zharin looked behind him and pointed into the room. “Leave her here.”

An Unsullied guard threw Brienne inside. She had a cloth wrapped around her left hand, and blood was saturating through it. Jaime rushed forward as Brienne sank to her knees in agony. 

“Brienne! What happened?”

Jaime pulled Brienne against him with his right arm while grabbing her hand with his left. Panic spread through his body as he unwrapped the cloth and saw how deep the wound at her palm went. From the doorway, Zharin spoke casually to the group.

“The carriage awaits you all outside. Any treatment for injuries will be tended to by the healer at your holding. I’ll see you all next week.”

Jaime’s eyes went wide. “She needs aid now!”

The man ignored Jaime and left the room. From the hallway, guards poured inside and began to urge them towards the carriage. Holding Brienne close as her body shook from the pain, Jaime wrapped her hand quickly and helped her upright. 

“We’ll get you aid. Cersei has medicines at the holding. I’ll get it from her.”

Brienne was in too much pain to argue the offer. Her feet stumbled blindly in the direction the guards shoved them. Addam helped support Brienne on her right side as Jaime stood at her left and kept a firm arm around her. 

The ride back to the holding seemed to stretch on forever. Jaime hated that they would need to rely on Daario’s healer for aid. The man was careless and disinterested when he treated one of Edwin’s wounds from the first battle. Something about the man reminded Jaime of Qyburn. His interests seemed self-serving and he looked at their group of fighters as though something to experiment on.

When they arrived back at the holding, the guards brought them to the room. Within moments, Daario entered the space with the healer at his back. “Her hand. Give it proper aid.”

Jaime lifted his head and glared at Daario.  _ She shouldn’t be fighting and he knows it. This is wrong. _

Daarior stood in the doorway as the healer approached. It wasn’t concern on his face, but something else that Jaime couldn’t place. With a sigh, Daario glanced back at someone in the hallway. 

“Bring a set of breeches and a tunic. Hurry.”

Jaime refused to leave Brienne’s side as the healer worked. He watched everything the man applied and ensured the tools’ cleanliness. “Careful! You’re hurting her. Don’t you have any medicine for the pain!?”

The healer ignored Jaime and continued his work. When at last he finished, the man left abruptly despite Jaime’s protests. “No salve!? She needs something to prevent infection.”

Daario stepped into the doorway and threw clothing at Brienne. His eyes lingered for a moment, but he turned away and left. Jaime wanted to hit the wall and rage, but instead he held Brienne close.

Thankfully, she was too distracted by the pain to fight his touch. “I’m sorry, Brienne. This is all my fault. You should be on Tarth with your father and preparing for the babe.”

The words seemed to break through the pain she was distracted by. Shrugging away, Brienne grimaced and moved against the wall. “He wouldn’t have me anyway. I’m Brienne Storm.”

_ Gods. She doesn’t know. _

“Brienne, he’s fighting for you. You don’t understand.” 

The words only served to anger her. Clutching her hands against her body, Brienne shook her head in refeute. Glancing at the Stormlands’ knights, Jaime saw them approach. It was Mattix who spoke as he crouched before her.

“Ser Brienne, he speaks the truth. Your father wished to come with you, but he only stayed to keep the babe safe when the time comes. We came instead. We’re here to protect you.”

Brienne looked at them uneasily as though awaiting the jape. “Don’t mock me. I know what I am to him. To everyone.”

Anson joined Mattix before her. He picked up the clothing that she had dropped when retreating to the wall. “We were there for your trial, standing beside our chosen Lord Paramount. He was enraged, but he had to bite his tongue. He’s playing into her game to ensure your best chance at survival. They’re fighting back against her; the North, Vale, Stormlands, Riverlands, and the Free Folk. I can’t imagine the other kingdoms much care for her either. He’s coming for you, my lady. Just stay alive. Keep fighting a while longer.”

Brienne’s eyes misted and she accepted the offered clothing. Holding the clothes against her chest as though armor, Brienne’s brows furrowed slightly in question. Mattix placed a consoling hand on her shoulder and captured Brienne’s attention.

“I don’t think he imagined any of us would end up in a fighting pit, but he did jape that it was more likely you’d end up protecting us. You’ll need to keep that clean so you can honor his wishes. Kent over there is very fragile.”

Brienne snorted and nodded her head. It was the first time since their arrival that Jaime saw the hint of a smile on her lips. He wanted to hold and comfort her, but it seemed her bannermen were doing a fine job of it, whereas he only upset her. 

Kent barked at the men to turn around so that Brienne could put on proper clothing. When everyone turned to face the windows, Jaime hesitated. He knew how difficult it was to change with one hand. Taking a cautious step towards Brienne, he whispered for her ears only.

“Let me help you. Your hand is wounded.” 

Brienne shook her head in refute. Unwilling to upset her, Jaime sighed and joined the men. He could hear the rustling of fabric at his back. It took longer than usual for her to dress, but with the injury being on her left hand, Brienne was capable with the right. A small voice called out in thanks when she was finished dressing, and Jaime smiled in relief at the sight of her.

Daario had brought breeches and a tunic long enough this time, though the shirt and breeches were too large for her frame. Despite being near seven moons pregnant, Brienne looked thinner everywhere except her swell. Her arms, legs, and face spoke to the lack of nourishment she was receiving. 

When it was time for supper, Jaime walked close at Brienne’s back. Anson and Mattix flanked her as she swayed slightly. By the tightness in her shoulders, Jaime could tell that Brienne was in immense pain. It reminded him of the days following the Long Night. Despite her own injuries, Brienne never complained. She seemed determined to appear strong no matter how much she was hurting. 

At supper, the knights refused to leave her side. It was nice to see her being cared for, but Jaime hated that it wasn’t him. Brienne had cared for him once when they were enemies. He had come to rely on her in ways he never thought possible. No one had ever offered him gentle touch as Brienne had then; certainly not Cersei. 

Staring at Brienne, Jaime heard Cersei whispering conspiratorially at his side. “The servants say that dragon bitch nearly lost everything here. Some rebels nearly killed them all; the Sons of the Harpy. I hear House Dhazak led the group. If we can gain control through him, we can get out of here. Kill these miserable shits and reclaim my throne.”

Addam chuckled across the table. He leaned across and whispered. “Are you mad? Are you so determined to get us all killed?”

Jaime’s head snapped to Cersei. “Enough plotting, Cersei. Just keep your head down and do as they ask.”

Cersei reached under the table and dug her nails into Jaime’s thigh. “Are you so craven, brother? Do you enjoy this exile so much with your precious cow? The servants say that without the dragons, the Sons of Harpy would have won. I need you to fight for us. For our babe.”

The pressure from Cersei’s nails lessened and her hand moved up his thigh. It was clear what she was trying to do; what she always did. Jaime refused to see it for so long, but he saw it now. Cersei always used sex as a means to control Jaime and get him to act on her behalf. He didn’t want to be that many anymore. Taking Cersei’s hand and shoving it away, Jaime spoke warningly. 

“Don’t do anything foolish. We do as they say, and nothing more.”

The next day, Jaime awoke with a start. Bursting into the room, the guards began to bark at them to ready for the day. It seemed earlier than usual, but Jaime sat upright and fumbled for his boots. Glancing at Brienne, he could see that she was struggling to sit upright. Her face looked paler than usual, and Jaime feared that the wound was troubling her.

_ Did she find rest, or did the pain keep her awake? Is the wound clean enough? Does she feel sick? _

Jaime kept an eye on Brienne during their morning meal and as they moved into the carriage. Brienne’s hand trembled slightly, but she stared ahead blankly and refused to speak. When they arrived at Lazyn’s estate, Jaime pressed close to Brienne’s side. 

“Let me see the hand, Brienne. It might need something to better clean the area.”

Stubborn as ever, Brienne refused. She listened intently to the instructions for their chores, and followed the staff closely. When she swayed, Jaime steadied her and kept his hand pressed to her back. His fingers curled slightly around her hip while he studied her face. A light sweat was dotting her brow, and Jaime worried she was developing an infection. 

When they were led towards the linen room to tend the foul-smelling sheets and clothing, Jaime approached the woman overseeing all laborers. “My friend has an injury. Can she be seen by the healer?”

The woman raised a brow. “You have a healer at your own holding. When you are here, you work.”

Jaime grumbled at the words. He knew that Cersei had more medicines at the holding which she took from the healer’s office at the estate. 

Approaching his sister, Jaime spoke quietly. “I need some of those medicines you have.”

Cersei snorted and elbowed him out of the way as she brought clean linens to the next room. Jaime grabbed another stack of clean linens and followed close at her back. When they stepped into the adjoining room, Jaime closed the door and spoke imploringly. 

“Cersei. You’ll have no one left. Our group is getting torn to shreds in that fighting pit. We have injuries and we need medicine or we’ll catch infection. Please.”

Raising a brow, Cersei moved slowly towards him. “Am I not dying here? Do you not see how they torture me? If you won’t help me, why should I help you?”

With a grunt, Jaime glared at her and whispered. “What would you have me do?”

A knowing smile tugged at Cersei’s lips. Her hands came to Jaime’s chest and she batted her eyes. “I need you to kill Lazyn’s wife.”

"What? Are you mad?”

Jaime had noticed Cersei’s behavior around the guards and Lazy shifting. She flaunted her body and loosened her lengthening, golden hair whenever they were near. Knowing Cersei as he did, Jaime understood she sought to gain control through use of her body. 

“With the wife out of the way, Lazyn and his men will be more agreeable to my instructions. We can take an army across the sea and reclaim what was stolen from us.”

Cersei’s hands dragged down Jaime’s sides and came to the laces of his breeches. Jaime shoved her away and shook his head in refute.

“You’ll get yourself killed. I’ll not attempt to follow you into the Stranger’s arms this time.”

Shoving her body against his, Cersei cupped his face. “Our babe  _ needs _ us. They mean to take our child away. You promised to protect me always. Protect  _ us _ .” Cersei placed his hand at her swell.

Guilt consumed Jaime. While he didn’t care for Cersei’s plans, he felt an obligation to keep their babe safe, just as he tried to keep Brienne and their babe safe. Jaime hesitated as he stared at Cersei’s swell. At almost nine moons, Jaime worried for the innocent in Cersei’s womb. The babe would arrive soon, and they were far from rescue. 

Jaime hadn’t realized Cersei’s hands at his laces until her hand was on his cock. Her fingers danced over his skin, but Jaime’s cock did not respond. In years past, he would have taken her against the wall. Now, he only felt repulsion. Shoving her away, Jaime shook his head. 

“Don’t! I am your brother, and I will do what I can for our babe, but I am not your creature any longer.” 

The words startled Cersei, and she smacked him across the face. Pressing close once more, Cersei snarled. “If I couldn’t see your sad, little cock hanging out of your breeches right now, I’d think you became an Unsullied when you went North.”

Abruptly, the door opened and captured their attention. Horace and Breinne stepped inside with linens in their arms. At the realization that his breeches were unlaced and Cersei far too close, Jaime froze. 

Brienne’s cheeks pinked as she quickly deposited the linens and moved back to the adjoining room. Rushing to lace his breeches with one hand, Jaime heard Cersei snort as she pushed past him. 

“Come talk to me when you find your manhood, brother.”


	9. The Paranoia of Targaryens

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Tyrion considers options in King's Landing as Daenerys slips deeper into madness.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I plan to double post this and the next chapter today. Next chapter should be up in a couple of hours once I can finalize some edits.

Tyrion watched in horror as Daenerys lined up a group of kitchen staff in the throne room. The day prior, she had felt ill after taking supper. In her growing madness, Daenerys was convinced that the women were trying to poison her slowly. 

Descending the steps, Daenerys glared at the women with hate in her eyes. Her features were more and more sunken by the day. Hair that once rested in beautiful, intricate braids was now frayed and chaotic. A frailness began to replace her once soft curves and smooth skin. 

Not even a year ago, Tyrion had thought Daenerys a true beauty. Her features were the type that minstrels and writers used as a muse. Now, she looked more like the Stranger. Her body trembled with rage as she eyed the women. 

“You mean to kill me with your poisons! I could feel it eating away at my insides, but your worthless potions cannot kill a dragon! Now, you’ll feel as my insides did. Burn them all!”

Without another word, Daenerys turned on heel and ascended the steps to her throne. Tyrion’s eyes went wide and he beseeched Daenerys to find another way. “Your Grace, we discussed this. Please, no fire. It will remind the people too much of…”

“Do you wish to join them, Lord Hand?” Daenerys' tone was cool as she interrupted Tyrion. When her violet eyes settled on Tyrion, he could see the sincerity in her threat. 

Clamping his mouth shut, Tyrion turned to face the accused. His brows knitted as he bit back a sob. The guards stepped towards the chained women. They held torches in hand and reached out for the group with an icy resolve on their faces. 

The women’s screams echoed off the throne room walls. Swallowing thickly, Tyrion tried to retreat within his own mind. Bran’s words from moons ago came back to him.

  
  
  


_ Three moons following Daenerys’ coronation - before the prisoners exile _

Tyrion sat before an enraged Selwyn Tarth as the older lord paced wildly. To Tyrion’s left, Sansa tried to console the man. 

“We’ll get her back. We just need to think this through and figure out the best approach.”

Since Jon was named Lord at Winterfell, Sansa lingered in the south. They were meeting in secret at an inn in King’s Landing that Bronn acquired using the gold paid by Cersei. Tyrion was still furious at the sellsword, but Bronn had been reasonably helpful so far. At first, Tyrion was uncertain if Bronn was sincere and meant to aid them, or if he would be loyal to Daenerys given her agreement to honor Tyrion’s promise of Highgarden. 

_ ‘I don’t trust anyone with a fuckin’ dragon! That crazy bitch tried to torch my arse!’ _

Taking a seat, Selwyn buried his face in his hands. “If Daenerys follows through on the idea to send Brienne to Essos, how will I ensure her safety?”

Tyrion had shared that Daenerys planned to send the prisoners across the Narrow Sea to Meereen. It was still unclear what the dragon queen had in mind, but it couldn’t be good. Tyrion recalled they had left behind a sufficiently sized army to hold Meereen, and Daario was extremely loyal. 

Selwyn shook his head despairingly. When he spoke, his words were filled with sorrow. “What if I never see her again? What if she dies thinking I don’t care.”

At Tyrion’s side, Addam spoke slowly. “I’ll look after her and tell her the truth. I’m going east. I’ve spoken about it with Tyrion.”

Tyrion offered a sympathetic smile at Addam. Only hours earlier, Tyrion shared Daenerys’ plans regarding Essos. The loyal knight was quick to offer his aid and put on a proper show before all of court to ensure his sentencing. 

Selwyn looked up slowly at the words. “By the gods, why would you willingly go east? I can only imagine what this mad woman has in mind.”

“You’re not the only one watching an innocent get sent east. Jaime is my friend. I’ll not abandon him now.”

Selwyn sneered. “He’s not an innocent! Not after all he’s done to my daughter and the realm.”

“No, he’s not innocent in all things, but in this, he is.” Bran’s voice was ominous as always. He seemed to stare through Selwyn as the older lord furrowed his brows in reply. “He has done hateful things for his sister and his House, but for Brienne, and he has given the best parts of himself.”

Selwyn scoffed in reply. His face reddened with rage as he stared at Bran with disbelieving eyes. “He left my daughter broken in a courtyard!” 

“He left her with his heart.” Bran’s voice did not waver despite the older lord’s intense glare. “It’s the second part of himself that he lost for her. Do you recall your ransom, Lord Selwyn? It was not accepted. Do you know why?”

The older lord startled at the reference to a ransom letter sent years ago. His lips parted, but no words came out.

“When Lord Bolton’s men tried to force themselves on your daughter, Ser Jaime stopped it. He lost his hand for it. When he was set free by Lord Bolton, he returned for her. He jumped unarmed into a bear pit to stand before her. He armed her and armored her to keep her safe on her mission to find my sisters. He let her past siege lines to treat with his enemy. He abandoned his sister to fight at her side against the dead. He left her with his heart when he rode south to die for his sins. He broke her heart so that she wouldn’t follow him into death. He’ll die for her in Essos if need be. When he loves, he loves with all of himself. I found out the hard way.”

Bran pointed at his legs as though to answer an unspoken question. At Tyrion’s side, Sansa grumbled. The crippled, young man had told Sansa the truth of it all after Brienne’s arrest. Of course, Tyrion had known. He always knew, but he dared not speak of it. 

Selwyn appeared unmoved by the words. “He did wrong by her!”

“He did, just as he did wrong by me. As I said, he is not innocent in all things, but everything he did, even his most misguided actions, were for love. He will keep her safe, as will Addam. We just need time.”

Selwyn huffed and glanced away. “I still don’t trust him. He’s an oathbreaker. A man of his quality would just as soon abandon her if an opportunity to save himself and his sister presents itself. He already abandoned her once for Cersei.”

“He abandoned Brienne to die with Cersei, but he wanted to live with Brienne. He had written a letter to you, but he burned it before sending it. He wanted to ask for her hand, but his guilt consumed him. He didn’t feel deserving of her. Then word arrived from the south, and he knew that his time was over. He knew he would die in this city, but he hoped to at least save as many lives as he could... just as he did the first time.”

“The first time?” Addam’s brows knitted together in confusion. 

Bran glanced at Addam with a vacant expression on his face. His words held no emotion as he told the truth of Aerys’ death. They sat in stunned silence listening to details from that day. 

“He still has nightmares from that day among many others. This city torments him. He always thought it would be the death of him, and it almost was. He found ways to cope with it though. Of course, serving in the Kingsguard wasn’t the first time he went away inside.”

Tyrion sat forward on the edge of his chair. “Addam said that too. What does that mean ‘go away inside’? He looked so… empty.”

Bran’s expression remained blank as he spoke. “You’ll find out soon enough. When Daenerys becomes her father, you’ll wish for a way to retreat from it. Your brother was only a boy when he watched Aerys burn men in the throne room. He was only a boy when he listened to Queen Rhaella screams as Aerys brutalized her. When the men came for Brienne, he implored her to go away inside as he had. To think of Tarth; its mountains and seas. Its waterfalls and pools. To think of Renly, if she loved him.  _ Go away inside _ . It was the only way he could survive it all. It was the only way he could survive leaving Brienne. He went away inside. You’ll see…”

  
  
  
  


Now as Tyrion sat in the throne room, he bit back a sob. He wanted to cry at the thought of his big brother, his protector, watching Aerys burn men. A boy of five-and-ten having to stand by and endure the horror of it. He thought of Jaime’s words to Brienne. He tried to take the advice himself. He wanted to go away inside. 

When the women’s screams faded, the smell remained. Burning flesh and thick smoke filled the room. Glancing to his side, Tyrion saw the smug satisfaction on Daenerys’ face. His chin trembled as he recalled what his brother did to save others from such cruelty. 

_ Should I do the same? My life is nothing compared to those whose lives I’ve endangered by bringing her here. I brought madness, fire, and blood to Westeros. Jaime had the right of it. She is Aerys reborn. _

Sansa had suggested poison. She recalled Joffrey’s purpling face as she whispered the words among their small group some moons ago. At the time, it seemed too risky; too obvious. Tyrion thought that poison could work, but it needed to be slower acting. They needed Daenerys to appear ill, or the Dothraki and Unsullied would become too suspicious and enraged. 

Their group had only just procured the necessary poison when  _ this  _ happened. No one had poisoned Daenerys’ food, but with her descent into madness, Daenerys believed so. A small stomach ache became poison. A bump at her side became an assassination attempt. A lingering look became plotting. 

No one was safe around Daenerys. She ordered taste testers at every meal beginning that day. They did not wish to poison an innocent along with Daenerys, but now Tyrion wondered if it was for the greater good. If only he could volunteer himself as taste tester, but Daenerys refused it. 

With the women sufficiently burned to a crisp, Daenerys rose from her chair. “Tyrion, come.”

Wordlessly, Tyrion followed. He followed her as he had across the Narrow Sea. He followed her as he had at the gold road. He followed her as he had to Winterfell and back again. He hated himself for it.

They arrived at the small council room just as the other members entered. The council stood in greeting and Bran inclined his head from his wheelchair. When Daenerys sat down, she appraised those around the table.

“Ser Davos, I want all visiting ships searched at the docks before crew are allowed off. I want any produce checked by one of my taste testers, and I want any weapons confiscated. I’ll not have more attempts on my life in my own city.”

The Onion Knight swallowed thickly and nodded. “Yes… ya Grace.”

There was not much else one could say. Tyrion and the rest of the council learned moons ago that arguing with Daenerys did little. Folding his hands onto his lap, Tyrion took a deep breath and felt his spirits sink. 

_ How are we to remove her with such paranoia and madness? Selwyn had the right of it. We need to amass as large of an army as we can and simply lay siege. What do we do about the dragon though? Drogon will torch everyone; innocents and soldiers.  _

At Tyrion’s side, Daenerys’ attention shifted to Bran. “What of Meereen? How did the Westerosi fair in the fighting pits this week?”

“Ser Symon is dead, but the rest live. They were given individual combat this week, and Zharin paired them with the opponents you requested.”

Daenerys breathed in a shaky breath at Tyrion’s side. Collecting herself, she tilted up her chin. “The babes? What of them?”

“Neither have been birthed yet, though Cersei continues to maintain that the babe in her womb is Ser Jaime’s.” 

Daenerys’ licked her lips and a storm swirled in her eyes. Tyrion knew that Daenerys despised when Bran used titles for the exiled Westerosi, but still, she refrained from correcting him. Part of Tyrion wondered at why she was so fearful of Bran, but he was the only council member afforded such freedom in speech. 

Not long after the exiled left for Essos, Bran had shared Cersei’s truth. She miscarried Jaime’s babe after he left to fight for the living. Fearful that Jaime might not return if word got out that her womb did not quicken, Cersei bedded Euron. Qyburn gave Cersei medications to encourage a babe to grow. At her age, Cersei had struggled to carry a babe to term. It had not been her first loss in recent years, though it was her first loss with Jaime’s babe. 

Tyrion was enraged that Bran withheld the information before Addam left. It would have done well to share the truth with Jaime, though Tyrion only prayed his brother would find out the truth when the babe was born. Daenerys found Cersei’s ploy amusing. She informed Daario of the babe’s true lineage in a missive, but warned him not to disclose the truth if the babe was born with Greyjoy features. 

Daenerys turned her attention to Bronn. “What of our  _ guest _ in the cells? Is he willing to talk now?”

Bronn plastered a false smile to his face. “I think ya’ll find him more agreeable now, ya Grace.”

Rising from her seat, Daenerys looked down at Bronn and spoke coolly. “Take me to him. Now.” 


	10. The Rescue of Maidens

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jaime needs to find a way to keep Brienne safe as she becomes sick from her poorly treated wound.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Double posting this with the prior chapter (chapter 9).

When Brienne walked into the room where Jaime stood with Cersei under questionable circumstances, he felt his heart shatter. He knew what Brienne would think, and he hated himself for allowing such a situation to arise. 

Throughout the rest of their shift at Lazyn’s estate, Jaime tried to talk to Brienne. Brienne made it a point to stand near other workers to prevent him from addressing the matter privately. His mind raced with worry and desperation. 

Jaime worried for Brienne’s physical health and her emotional state. He worried that one of them could die at any moment without Brienne knowing the truth.

That night, Jaime refused to find sleep until the snores of the men filled the room. When Jaime was confident everyone was asleep, he stepped over two Stormlands knights to crouch before Brienne. Gently, Jaime nudged her shoulder to rouse her. 

Whispering, Jaime encouraged her awake. “Brienne. Brienne, please wake up.”

There was a warmth radiating off Brienne’s body that worried Jaime. As her eyes fluttered open slowly, Jaime felt her injured hand. An intense heat could be felt through the bandaging and Jaime feared what the wound might look like. 

Sitting upright, Brienne looked around the room in question. “What?”

Taking a deep breath, Jaime continued to whisper at Brienne’s side. “Please, Brienne. I desperately need to speak with you. Just hear me out, and I’ll never speak to you again if that is your desire.”

“No.” Her tone was cool in reply. It reminded Jaime of their earliest days in the Riverlands.

“Please, Brienne. Just… this one thing. It’s all I ask. Just a few minutes to speak and then I’ll leave you be. I swear it.”

With a huff of irritation, Brienne wrapped her arms protectively around herself. “Fine.”

A wave of relief crested over Jaime at the allowance. “Thank you. I will do anything to keep you alive, but if I fail, I need you to know that I stopped loving  _ her _ after meeting you. I’m craven though, and I stayed at her side. I stayed at her side while she did the very thing that I gave up my name to prevent. I  _ hate _ myself for it, but I didn’t know how to leave. Ridiculous, I know. The thought of you was the only thing that kept me going. You remind me of what I always wanted to be; a good man. But... I’ve done horrible things for Cersei, and I deserve to die with her for it. All I truly wanted was a life with you. I’ve loved you since Harrenhal. I didn’t realize it then, but when we… at Winterfell… I knew. I wanted to stay with you, and marry you, and have a babe with you, but it was too late for me. I’ve done too much… wrong, for her. She and I deserve death, and I’m so sorry that you’ve been found guilty by association. It was what I feared most when I tried to stay. I just need you to know that when I said ‘it was yours’ about the sword, I didn’t mean Oathkeeper. I meant my heart. Cersei can tear apart the rest of me, but she can’t have that.”

Jaime looked down as a feeling of intense vulnerability coursed through his body. He bit his lip and risked a glance at Brienne through his lashes. At her back, Anson snored loudly before rolling over; the sound muffled slightly by the change in direction. 

Brienne stared vacantly at the wall; her eyes distant as they had been for weeks. “Are you done now?”

The words knocked the air from Jaime’s lungs. With an affirmative nod, Jaime rocked back on his heels from his crouched position. He tried to swallow down the pain of her dismissal before replying.

“Yes. I… thank you.”

Moving back to his space in the floor, Jaime rolled onto his right side to face the window. He chastised himself for tearing up. It was a weakness that his father always despised. That night, Jaime struggled to find sleep. He only prayed that Brienne believed his words, even if she refused to accept them. 

Over the next few days, Brienne’s condition worsened. Then the day of the fighting pit came and Brienne struggled to rouse from sleep. Her breathing was shallow and her skin slick with sweat. When the guards came in, Jaime spoke urgently. 

“Please, you can’t do this. She’s ill. Tell Daario that I’ll fight her match and my own, please!” 

Jaime’s desperate cries went unanswered. Violent hands shoved them through the morning routine. Jaime and the other men helped Brienne from room to room and into the carriage. The men raged as Jaime had, but it was a lost cause.

When they arrived at the arena, the men tried to shield Brienne. They all feared that the sight of her would only encourage the cruel pit master, Zharin, to declare single combat. By some mercy, they were to fight in groups that day; four and four.

Jaime, Mattix, Edwin, and Brienne were placed in one group. The other group was Addam, Anson, Kent, and Axell. Jaime’s group would clearly be at a disadvantage, and Jaime groaned that they had Edwin. Of all the men, he cared least for Brienne’s wellbeing. 

Grabbing the man by the arm, Jaime spoke urgently. “Don’t take your hatred for me out on her. She’s innocent in all this and she’s sick. We have to protect her.”

Edwin shrugged Jaime’s hand off him. “I fight to live. She puts us at a disadvantage, and catering to her only worsens it. It’s a mercy if the Stranger comes for her now. Clearly these men will not heal her.”

Jaime’s eyes went wide at the words and he snarled at the man. “She’s pregnant!” 

The words did little to move Edwin. As they selected their weapons, Jaime put a dagger in Brienne’s boot as he always did his own. While she would be unable to wield it, Jaime could access it if necessary. Matrix grabbed Jaime by the tunic and tugged him close.

“Guard her with your left hand from her right side. I’ll stay at her left side. Fuck Edwin. Let him be bait for whatever the fuck they throw at us.”

With a nod of agreement, Mattix and Jaime dragged a nearly unconscious Brienne to the pit. When they stepped into the arena, Jaime felt his heart beat wildly. Daario sat among the nobility as always. When he stood to announce the match, Daario cast a peculiar expression at their group. He hesitated as though uncertain about something, but he soon proceeded with the announcement of the match. 

“Today we offer you a reenactment of our queen’s victory in King’s Landing where her armies defeated the Golden Company to reclaim what was stolen from her. The Westerosi were so craven, that they set down their weapons in surrender.”

Jaime rolled his eyes at the words.  _ This miserable shit. _

His lips parted to speak, but Mattix silenced him. “Prove him wrong with victory, not words. Don’t piss him off more.”

Biting his lip, Jaime glanced at Brienne as they held her upright. Her breathing was shallow and her face sunken. “Brienne, just stay here. We’ll defend you.” 

Shaking her head, Brienne’s hand reached out shakily with the shortsword that Jaime had given her. He wasn't certain that she could wield a longsword, and at seven moons, she was in no condition to fight as it was. With a fever that threatened her life, she should have been in bed with a maester tending to her. 

The doors to the pit opened and Jaime sighed heavily at what he saw. A Dothraki, two Unsullied, and a fighter dressed in the colors of House Stark stalked towards them. The man was clearly not of the North, but Jaime knew what they aimed for. 

Letting go of Brienne, Mattix and Jaime stood protectively before her. Edwin growled at them as he stood several feet away. “You’ll get us all killed if you hover over her like that. Come fight with me!”

“You fight with us. Get back!” Jaime roared at the man, but he didn’t budge. The Dothraki and one of the Unsullied lunged at Jaime and Mattix. They began to parry and riposte; both men being more familiar with the opponent's movements than the foes understood their style. 

As Jaime ducked under a blow from a spear, he dropped to a knee and spun around. With an upward thrust, Jaime plunged his sword into the Unsullied’s gut. From his position, Jaime saw Edwin stumbling backwards as the other Unsullied and the false Northmen attacked. Taking on both men proved too much, and Edwin took a spear through the head. Running towards Brienne, Jaime left Mattix to continue fighting the Dothraki. Brienne was trying to stand, but swaying and too weak to lift her blade. 

As the false Northman reached her, Brienne’s blade came up in a weak defense, but Jaime’s sword joined hers just in time. With their three weapons together above Brienne’s head, Jaime’s side was left open. He could feel the approaching threat from the Unsullied at his side, but Jaime couldn’t let go or the man would cut down onto Brienne’s head. 

Kicking the false Northmen as hard as he could in the groin, Jaime was able to recover quickly enough to block a spear taking aim for his exposed side. Brienne dropped to the ground in a weakened state. Exchanging blows with the Unsullied, Jaime tried to keep an eye on the false Northman. With a loud growl, Jaime ducked under the spear which cut across from left to right. 

Jaime spun around and dragged his blade across the Unsullied’s gut. As he did so, Jaime kicked the dying man to the ground and ran towards Brienne. Mattix had just killed the Dothraki in the distance, but he was well out of reach. With his blade raised high, the false Northmen prepared to kill Brienne. Jaime tackled the man to the ground and swung hard with his false hand. As his gold hand connected with the man’s nose, a loud crunch echoed off the arena walls. 

A groan of pain pushed past the man’s lips. Before Jaime could reach for his dagger, a shortsword pushed through the man’s head. With everything she had, Brienne had lunged forward and killed the man. She collapsed from the effort and struggled to breathe as Jaime moved off the dead man and grabbed her.

“Brienne! Stay with me. Keep your eyes open.”

Mattix returned to Jaime’s side and together, they lifted Brienne to her feet. Her head was burning and Jaime feared she wouldn’t make it through the night without treatment. Lifting her in his arms, Jaime moved back into the tunnel system and towards the holding room. Mattix screamed at the guards to bring water and a healer, but no one moved. 

Moments after they returned to the holding room, the door burst open. Daario’s hand was grabbing a fistful of fabric as he tugged a man into a room. Daario spoke in a language that Jaime couldn’t discern, and Jaime watched as the man approached Brienne with a small bag in his right hand. 

The man looked older and moved slowly as he unwrapped Brienne’s bandaged hand. The wound was red and swollen as it pushed against the stitches. Reaching into the small bag, the man produced two vials. One was a liquid which he poured into Brienne’s mouth while lifting her head. Jaime stared at the jar and committed the words to memory.

The next was a container with a salve. He applied it to the wound and wrapped it with clean bandages. Without a word, the man stood to leave. Glancing back at Daario, Jaime snarled at him.

“You know this is wrong! She’s a pregnant woman and innocent! She doesn’t deserve this.”

Daario tugged the man out, but he paused before following. “I know what she did to my friends! I know what she means to do to Queen Daenerys! That’s hardly innocent!”

Jaime’s eyes went wide. “Brienne did nothing! She fought alongside Daenerys’ armies!”

The words startled Daario, but he left without another word. Jaime lifted Brienne into his arms. She needed water and rest. If Jaime could procure a cloth, he would contentedly spend the night pressing it to Brienne’s forehead to aid the fever. 

When they eventually returned to the holding, Jaime held Brienne in his arms and complained to Addam. “Daenerys is feeding her people lies to get them to torture Brienne. She needs more treatment, and I know Cersei has medicine.”

Addam sighed and stared intently at Brienne. She was asleep in Jaime’s arms, but her features were pale, drawn, and sunken. 

“At supper I’ll ask one of the men to get whatever Cersei has. Most of them hate her. Only Horace puts up with her shit.”

Soon the guards came to bring them to supper. Despite Addam’s encouragement, Jaime refused to leave Brienne’s side. He watched as the men left for their meal; his own stomach protesting his decision. The warmth from Brienne’s head in his lap made Jaime shift repeatedly. He stared at her swell and resisted the urge to reach down and place his hand there. Aside from Cersei placing his hand on her swell the other day, Jaime had never been allowed such touch. 

None of the other children moved under Jaime’s palm while Cersei carried them. She always feared that it would be too obvious just as she worried about Jaime holding their babes. Strangely, Jaime felt no attachment to Cersei’s babe as he did with Brienne’s. He wanted to ensure both babes were safe, but the babe in Brienne’s belly felt  _ his _ . Not that she would ever allow him to claim the babe, but Jaime would treasure the boy or girl all the same. 

Time had no meaning in the small room. Jaime stared out the window and watched the dwindling light in the sky. He prayed to any god who would listen to keep Brienne safe. 

_ I just need to keep her alive until help comes. If I survive, perhaps she’ll let me visit the babe from time to time.  _

When the door opened and the men returned, Jaime watched as they approached to appraise Brienne. They had stolen napkins and saturated them in their water to use as a cool compress for Brienne’s head. The effort was much appreciated by Jaime as he continued to hold Brienne’s head in his lap. 

“Here.” Mattix reached into his tunic and placed half a roll in Jaime’s hand. 

The generosity surprised Jaime. They were all starving, and that Mattix saved half his roll meant a lot. “Thank you.”

Anson had done the same, as did Axell and Kent. With the rolls piled at his side, Jaime watched as Addam crouched before him. He handed Jaime a napkin with more food wrapped inside. “We started a bit of a collection.” 

Jaime unwrapped the napkin and saw pieces of meat and vegetables wrapped inside. With a small smile, Jaime nodded and glanced at his childhood friend. “Thank you.”

Addam snorted and shrugged as though it mattered little. “We’ll not let you starve.”

“I mean about everything. I think you might be the only person in all of Westeros who would have come here to help me.”

Addam sighed and glanced down at Brienne. “I think she would have.”

Jaime sighed and looked at Brienne. “She would help anyone if she felt they were wrongly punished, but everything I put her through, she wouldn’t have followed… at least, I hope not.”

Addam’s eyes glanced back at the men. As awful as it was to see more and more unused bedrolls piling up by the door, it was nice to have some room to stretch out. “You should talk to her when she’s better. Tell her the truth of it.”

Jaime shook his head slowly. “I did and it doesn’t matter. I ruined everything. She deserves better than someone like me.”

_ She deserves someone who isn’t hateful.  _

A warm hand reached out for Jaime’s shoulder. “I think that’s for her to decide, but I know my friend quite well. From what I’ve heard about Brienne, she’s quite like you. Won some swordfights, kept an oath to Lady Catelyn, fought for the living, and… protected the innocent. Though, I don’t think she saved quite so many people as you. Give her time… I have a feeling she’ll get there.”

Jaime’s brows furrowed at the words. His lips parted to inquire what Addam meant by the last comment, but Addam stood and walked away. He called out over his shoulder before setting out his bedroll. 

“Bran Stark is quite informative. He knows what you did, and he knows that no one can protect her better than you.”


	11. The Punishment of Caring

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jaime takes care of Brienne, no matter the cost.

Jaime awoke suddenly at the guards entry. He was leaning against the wall with Brienne’s head still in his lap. The guards barked at them to ready for the day, and Jaime began to protest. Brienne was in no condition to go anywhere, but before Jaime could finish his demand that she stay abed, Daario stormed into the room. The healer was at his back and the man moved quickly to check on Brienne. 

He had medicine in his bag and changed Brienne's bandages just as the healer at the pit had yesterday. Jaime glanced at Daario who watched silently as the man worked. 

When his eyes lifted to meet Jaime’s, they were devoid of warmth. “She’ll stay here for the day, and on the morrow, she serves.”

Jaime exhaled forcefully and it felt as though moons of stress poured out of his lungs. He could breathe again for the first time since they arrived. “Thank you.”

“When the babe arrives, she’ll be afforded no such luxury.” Daario aimed at sternness, but Jaime could hear the underlying concern below it. For a moment, the man reminded Jaime of Bronn. 

_Perhaps he isn’t entirely like his queen. Seems a condition of all sellswords I know. Miserable shits with masked decency._

Reluctantly, Jaime lowered Brienne’s head to the bedroll. Her head didn’t feel as warm, but still too hot to ease Jaime’s worry. The cool compresses had helped, and Jaime was certain that the medicines were providing Brienne’s body a chance to beat the infection. 

Running a hand through Brienne’s hair, Jaime kissed her forehead and savored the ability to do so without earning her ire. He knew that once she was awake, he would need to honor his agreement to leave her alone. 

The group to serve was already eating when the fighters entered the hall. Cersei’s brows rose in amusement as Jaime and Addam took a seat nearby. “Another missed meal. Please tell me that we’ve finally lost the cow.”

Jaime felt rage building within and resisted the urge to lash out at Cersei. Addam’s hand tapped Jaime’s side. Glancing down, Jaime watched as Addam’s fist opened to reveal a small vial. He leaned over and whispered for Jaime’s ears only. “Horace has had enough. He knew where it was.”

Jaime recalled the night prior when Addam said he would ask someone to steal Cersei’s hidden stash of medicine. With a small smile, Jaime nodded his head in thanks. Addam put the vial in his boot and finished his meal in silence. 

It was likely that the healer would not see Brienne on the morrow given Daario’s mandate that she would have to serve again. Jaime realized that Brienne would need more medicine. He had committed the labels to memory at the fighting pit, and determined that he would steal some more at Lazyn’s estate.

The ride to Lazyn’s estate was mercifully quiet. Horace was in no mood for Cersei’s demands, and Jaime too tired to indulge her provocations. The lack of sleep from the night prior was beginning to set in, and Jaime could think of one thing only. _Get Brienne more medicine._

Much of the morning was spent in the fields shoveling shit. Cersei raged when neither Horace nor Jaime would fill her bucket. With their own buckets full, the men leaned against the gate and rolled their eyes at Cersei’s sobs as she shoveled manure. 

Grumbling at Jaime’s side, Horace stared at the former queen with irritation in his eyes. “How did you endure it for so long?”

_I wish I knew._

“I’m sorry, did you say something? I have the strangest condition where I can’t hear anything if spoken by those from the West.”

Horace snorted in reply. “Got it.”

They stood quietly for another moment before Horace turned to Jaime; his voice cautious as he spoke. “The other woman. Its your babe, isn’t it?”

Jaime stiffened at the words, but he forced his face to remain neutral. “Why would you think that?”

“My House holds the same opinion of House Lannister as the rest of the vassals. Yours is a House that a lord wants on his side lest you wish to become House Reyne. Arrogance, pride, fear, and power. It’s how your father led. I don’t see any world in which the Golden Lion helps some ugly, disowned vassal from another kingdom instead of his _sister_.”

Taking a deep breath, Jaime glanced away to compose himself. Every part of Jaime screamed at him to introduce Horace to his golden hand. It wasn’t the commentary on his House or his quality that upset Jaime. It was the comment about Brienne.

Leaning close to Horace, Jaime spoke menacingly. “If you ever speak of Ser Brienne that way again, I’ll place this shovel so far up your ass, that it will fill more than that bucket in your hand. You’d do well to remember what House Reyne acknowledged. Regardless of coat, a lion still has claws. Would you like to test mine?”

At the words, Horace paled and stepped back slowly. As they waited for Cersei to finish filling her bucket, Jaime hummed a tune. The Rains Of Castamere.

The rest of the afternoon was spent washing soiled linens. Cersei tended to Lazyn and changed out his sheets while Jaime and Horace had the honor of scrubbing them of their filth. When Azlek commanded them to retrieve the dry linens from outside, Jaime eagerly volunteered. The corridor leading to the linen line took him passed the healer’s office. Jaime would not waste the opportunity to sneak inside and procure necessary medicines and bandages for Brienne.

As he passed the room, Jaime saw the door ajar and the healer inside. He was speaking with one of the workers and presumably offering treatment. Stepping outside the holding, Jaime collected the dry linens from the line and folded them slowly to allow enough time for the healer to finish. On the way inside, Jaime saw the healer and the worker moving out of the room. 

Jaime’s steps slowed and he waited for the duo to round the corner which was just twenty feet ahead. Slipping inside, Jaime moved quickly towards the shelves. He saw the two medicines used at the fighting pit to treat Brienne and shoved them into his boots. Glancing around the room, Jaime looked for fresh bandages. 

On the back shelf, Jaime spotted what was needed. He moved forward and grabbed some of the thin cloth used as medical wrappings. With the fabric shoved into his boot, Jaime heard a noise outside the door. 

_Seven hells._

Jaime moved to a different shelf and grabbed a stack of cloths that were not needed. If someone came into the room, Jaime intended to make it seem as though he was taking cloth rather than medicine. Further, he didn’t want anyone to search his boots. Jaime shoved cloths into his tunic to make it appear obvious that he was trying to hide things there and nowhere else on his person. 

The door shoved open to reveal the same worker and the healer that had only moments earlier walked down the corridor. Immediately, the healer began screaming at Jaime. He called for a guard who entered not long after. Yelling at Jaime in a foreign tongue, the guard shoved Jaime to the floor and screamed at him. 

“I’m sorry! I’m sorry! I was taking some cloth!” 

The healer bent down and grabbed Jaime by the hair. Given how short it was from the haircut Jaime received upon arrival, the man struggled to yank Jaime’s head upwards. “What you take!?”

“Just some cloth. It’s in my tunic!”

The healer reached into Jaime’s tunic and screamed at him. “Why!?”

“The fighting pits! We get wounds and they don’t treat us with clean cloth. I mean to give these to my friends.”

The healer and the guard spoke for length in a language that Jaime couldn’t understand, but he prayed the healer believed his lie. Abruptly, the guard grabbed Jaime by the arm and pulled him from the floor. 

He was dragged down the hallway and towards Lazyn’s room. The stench of Lazyn wafted through the doors and into the corridor on approach. Jaime held his breath as the guard shoved him inside. Words were exchanged once more in a language unfamiliar to Jaime. All Jaime could do was glance at Lazyn. 

It was clear to Jaime that he would not walk away unscathed. More guards were summoned and Jaime was dragged outside where the carriage typically awaited them. A guard shoved Jaime to his knees and held him there as household staff, Horace, and Cersei were lined up. 

Before Jaime could process what was happening, something hit him hard in the head. Falling forward onto his arms, Jaime felt a whip crack hard across his back. The pain was excruciating, but it was nothing like losing his hand. Gritting his teeth, Jaime refused to scream.

All Jaime could picture was Brienne. He closed his eyes and concentrated on sapphires. When he lost his hand to Locke, all Jaime wanted was death. He thought to have lost the best part of himself, and even then, he knew that Cersei would never accept him as he was. 

It was Brienne who commanded him to live. Live to take revenge. Live to get back to Cersei. It was Brienne who made him feel more than his sword hand; Brienne who reminded him of all that he had been and longed to be again. Through Brienne, Jaime learned that the best part of himself, the part not tainted by Cersei, was his heart. With each crack of the whip, Jaime willed himself to endure it for her. 

When the lashes stopped and the crowd moved away, Jaime lay half-conscious on the ground. _They didn’t check my boots. I have what Brienne needs._

Jaime could feel the blood trickling down his back as his tunic clung to his body. He had counted ten lashes, but it felt like one hundred. The smell of blood filled his nostrils and his muscles trembled from the pain. Glancing to his left, Jaime saw Azlek standing beside Cersei and Horace. The young woman’s eyes lacked any sympathy as she held out a bucket. “Back to work.”

Forcing himself to stand, Jaime grimaced and hobbled over to follow the group back towards the fields where they would harvest olives. The idea of being in the sweltering sun with his back cut open and bleeding was torturous. 

For hours, Jaime struggled through the motion of picking olives. Horace and Cersei avoided him to the point of absurdity, though he cared little. Jaime only wanted to get back to the holding and hide the medicines in an unused bedroll. Brienne’s life for his back hardly seemed a tradeoff to question in Jaime’s mind.

When the day ended, Jaime wanted to weep with joy. The carriage ride back to the holding was horrible. Jaime was unable to lean back against the cart and rest. With every jostle of the carriage, Jaime wanted to scream when his back made contact with the wooden boards. As the cart entered the courtyard, Jaime struggled to stand. He gingerly moved from the cart and prayed to the gods that the guards wouldn’t shove him in the back. 

Standing at the door, Daario appraised the group returning from the estates. When his eyes landed on Jaime limping along, he rolled his eyes. “I warned you not to be late to the carts. Good luck surviving your next match like that.”

Addam’s group arrived not long after and Jaime had barely made it halfway towards their pitiful excuse for a room. Seeing Brienne was the only thing that kept Jaime’s feet moving forward. A presence at Jaime’s side caught his attention.

“Seven hells! What happened?” Addam stared at Jaime as though the answer was written on his face.

Jaime kept his mouth shut as the guards guided them towards the room. The hall seemed quieter than usually, but Jaime wondered if that was more on account of the daze he was in. They stepped into the room and Jaime sagged in relief at the sight of Brienne laying down, but awake on her bedroll. Her eyes appraised the returning group, but she did not open her mouth to speak.

Dropping beside her, Jaime waited until the guards closed the door before reaching into his boots. Addam was at his back and appraising the damage. “Fuck! What did they do to you?”

Holding up the medicine, Jaime spoke quietly. His tone was laced with pain as he shuffled closer to Brienne. “I got more medicine. Has the healer seen you today?”

Brienne’s eyes were glassy from fever. She shook her head in refute and Jaime felt her head. The fever had not broken, but she had a touch more color to her cheeks than the day before. Unwrapping the bandages, Jaime did as the two healers had done. He applied the salve and put clean bandages on. When that was taken care of, he offered more of the liquid which he assumed would help fight the infection. 

Laying on his stomach, Jaime let the pain win out. He closed his eyes and drifted off to sleep. Supper was far from his mind when the time came. Addam tried waking him, but Jaime refused to get up. “Please. Just get a roll for Brienne.”

The next day was more of the same, though Brienne joined them at Lazyn’s estate. They shoveled shit, washed linens, and picked olives. Brienne was still unwell and unsteady. While Jaime’s back felt better than the day prior, it still hurt when the breeze rustled his tunic, or someone bumped him from behind. Halfway through the day, Jaime watched Brienne with great worry as she rocked on her feet. Sweat dotted her brow in the scorching sun while they hung the linens. 

Grabbing Brienne by the wrist, Jaime guided her quickly towards a concealed corner against the building that was well-shaded. He had brought the medicine in his boot and set to the task of cleaning the wound and applying more salve. Brienne was in a daze; her eyes glazed over. Holding her close, Jaime felt tears form in his eyes. They were living in some level of the Seven Hells and it was his fault. 

Jaime encouraged Brienne to take more of the medicine by mouth, but then he heard someone to his left. His head snapped in the direction of the sound and his eyes met Azlek’s. The young woman stared at the vial in Jaime’s hand and she turned quickly in the direction of the estate’s entryway. Jaime couldn’t let Brienne be whipped for his actions. Running after the girl, he grabbed her wrist and spoke imploringly. 

“Please. She’s sick and with child. Tell them it was only me. I took it.”

The girl pulled her wrist from Jaime’s grasp and moved away from him quickly. _Fuck!_

Jaime ran back to Brienne and encouraged her upright. “If anyone asks, you didn’t take any medicine. Tell them you were just sitting with me while I took it.”

Brienne’s brow furrowed in confusion, but she didn’t reply. With his arm wrapped tightly around her, Jaime guided her back towards Horace and Cersei. Brienne felt too thin and her color was poor. With his left hand at her hip, Jaime could feel her hipbone more than he had during their time together at Winterfell. Were it not for the swell of her belly, Jaime feared she would be little more than skin and bones. 

The rest of the day, Jaime waited for the guards to come. His body jolted and tensed with every sharp voice at his back. Keeping an eye on Brienne, Jaime watched nervously for any sign of Azlek or a whip. Hours went by, but no punishment came. The sight of the rickety carriage entering the courtyard was the sweetest thing Jaime had ever seen. Together, Jaime and Brienne dragged themselves into the carriage and struggled to remain upright through the ride downhill and towards their prison.

That night, Brienne took supper with the group. With Jaime and Addam flanking her, they managed to get enough food in her to restore some of the color to her face and awareness in her eyes. After supper, it was repetition. More salve. More bandages. More medicine. 

It struck Jaime how much everything felt like the Riverlands when he lost his hand. Brienne had kept his wound as clean as possible and kept the wrapping clean with what little supplies she had. Taking only what little she needed, Brienne had offered her own rations to aid Jaime’s recovery. Her gentle hands had worked to clean away vomit, piss, and shit from his clothing any time they stopped near a stream. 

Most of it Jaime hadn’t been conscious for, but enough of it was remembered. Now as he wrapped Brienne’s bandage that night, she stared at him strangely. Her lips parted slightly, but she said nothing.

The next day when they arrived at the estate, Jaime felt a tremor of fear when Azlek approached. Jaime wondered if the young woman was toying with them, and would have them punished that day instead. That day, they were to pick olives before moving inside to tend to Lazyn’s linens. When Azlek shoved a bucket into his chest, Jaime looked inside and his eyes went wide. 

At the bottom of the bucket, Jaime saw fresh bandages, salve, and medicine. His eyes went wide, but Azlek had already stepped away after giving out the rest of the buckets. A soft smile tugged at his lips when he glanced at Brienne. 

_The punishment was worth it. She’ll be alright._


	12. The Mending of Hearts

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Brienne is feeling better and struggling to make sense of everything that happened.

Brienne didn’t remember much from the week, but she remembered emerald eyes, gentle touch, and kind words. Part of Brienne thought she had died. Her mind could not reconcile the treatment she was receiving with the cruelty of exile and Jaime’s betrayal at Winterfell. When her fever broke and her eyes opened, she saw Jaime. 

Jaime was asleep beside her on his stomach. His hair was short, but weeks in the sun returned the strands to a golden hue unlike its darker coloring in the dreary North. When Brienne’s eyes traced the outline of his body, they widened at the sight of his back. Brienne sat upright and stared at the bloodstains covering his tunic. Her lips parted as though to speak, but to whom she would direct the question, Brienne was uncertain.

A voice called out to her side. “They whipped him.”

Brienne’s head snapped left and she saw Addam leaning against the wall. Her brows furrowed in question as she glanced back at Jaime. “Why?”

“He stole medicine for you.”

Brienne’s head fell at the words. She turned over her left hand to appraise the fresh bandages covering her palm. “Was it him treating me? I thought… I thought it a dream.”

“Yes, it was him.” Addam sounded tired. It was the first time Brienne heard fatigue in his voice. 

_ It wasn’t a dream. Jaime was there with me, tending to me and caring for me.  _

Brienne’s eyes scanned the room and she noticed the sleeping forms of the other men. “I don’t even remember the last fight. He shouldn’t have done all that for me. He could have gotten himself killed.”

Addam sighed and took a seat beside Brienne. There were dark circles under his eyes, but he didn’t seem physically tired; only emotionally drained.

“Well don’t expect him to do anything less. He loves you, and as I’m certain you’ve observed by now, when he loves, it’s to the point of self-destruction.”

Brienne remembered Jaime’s speech from the other night. Even in the darkness, she recalled the look in his eyes as he spoke, and how every part of her heart begged acceptance of the words, even if she didn’t believe them. Brienne had wondered if shame existed in exile if she became little more than his desperate whore again, accepting of any morsel of affection that Jaime would offer. For a moon turn, she had been alone, scared, and demoralized. 

Even though Brienne wanted to believe Jaime, her mind had summoned the image of him and Cersei together at the estate. She held tightly to that image as she turned to address Addam.

“Whatever he thinks to feel for me, it’s certainly not love. Cersei is his love. I walked in on them together at the estate.”

Addam huffed and rolled his eyes. “He told me about that while you were sick. She’s always been like that. Cersei uses her body and tries to dangle affection and sex as motivation. He was properly pissed that day. Cersei followed him into the storage room and asked him to kill Lazyn’s wife. Of course he refused and she tried to use her body, but he shoved her away. You walked in at  _ just  _ the right time, and Cersei wins yet again, even when she loses. I know he can be a proper fuck up, but his heart is always in the right place. He loves you.”

They sat in silence for some time as Brienne considered Addam’s words. Nothing made sense to Brienne. Jaime’s words and actions in Essos stood in opposition to his words and actions in the courtyard at Winterfell. Her mind was buzzing with points and counterpoints. Everytime her heart felt a twinge of hope, her mind reminded her why it couldn’t be true. 

“Do we fight today?” Brienne desperately wanted to change the subject. She didn’t have the emotional strength to spend another moment dwelling on her failings in love.

“On the morrow. You picked a good time for your fever to break.” Addam sighed as he spoke. His head lifted to gaze out the window as the first rays of sunlight began to filter into the room. Not long after, the men began to stir. 

Mattix sat up and yawned loudly. “Fucking hells. My gods damned back can’t take this anymore. The better hurry up to the west.”

Beside Mattix, Anson put away his bedroll and called out. “Ser Brienne, welcome back to the living. I was getting a bit jealous of your mental absence from this shit.”

The room was becoming noisy as the men readied for the day. Jaime began to stir as the men talked loudly amongst themselves. As he did every morning at Winterfell, Jaime lifted his stump to rub the sleep from his eyes, only to grumble in frustration and reach with his left hand.

Addam chirped teasingly at Jaime from his position beside Brienne. “Good morning, sweetling. You snored extra loud on your belly last night. I thank you for that. Perhaps tonight you can face Ser Brienne with all that noise.” 

Jaime muttered obscenities at Addam. For someone who spent years as a Kingsguard and military leader, Jaime was always slow to rise. When his eyes fluttered open and he glanced at Brienne, Jaime sat up quickly. “You’re awake.”

“Yes, it would seem someone offered treatment. Thank you.” Brienne tried to avoid Jaime’s eyes as she spoke. She felt too vulnerable after having been semiconscious through much of the week. 

It rattled Brienne that she could hardly recall the last fight in the pit. Inwardly, she wondered if that was how Jaime had felt in the Riverlands when he finally came to. There was a vulnerability in everyone else seeing and hearing you, but having no recollection of your own actions and words. It was embarrassing to think of what she might have said or done while in a daze.

“Of course. You were a much easier patient than I imagine I was. I appreciate the lack of vomit, piss, and shit.” Jaime spoke lightly, but there was something in his tone and eyes that seemed as much for Briennea’s reassurance as it was a jape.

That morning, Brienne shuffled through the routine. Everything felt disorienting as Brienne struggled to regain her footing. Her body cried out for nourishment, and Brienne felt immense relief when the babe kicked. 

_ Thank the gods. Let me not fail in keeping this innocent safe as I’ve failed in keeping my past charges safe.  _

For the first time since arriving, Brienne finished her meal before everyone else. It felt as though she hadn’t eaten for moon turns and she worried for the babe’s health despite the noted movement. As they walked to the cart, Brienne noticed someone move to her side. 

Without making eye contact, Jaime lifted a napkin to her. “I’ll leave you be as promised. I just… you should eat more.” 

Inside the napkin, Brienne saw much of Jaime’s rations; bread, grapes, and sausage. Before she could say anything, he stepped away and towards the carriage, stopping only to help her inside. 

The ride to Lazyn’s estate was quiet, and Brienne had to remind herself that she had been taking the ride all week. From across the carriage, Cersei clucked in annoyance. “Perhaps someone can try to pull her own weight today. The rest of us have been dealing with unnecessary increases to our workload.”

“Fuck off, Cersei. You haven’t lifted a finger to do one added thing all week.” Jaime grumbled in irritation from Brienne’s side. 

Cersei lunged forward in her seat with a vicious scowl on her face. “I had to wash that disgusting man’s linens two days prior because you were too busy helping the cow collect linens off the line!”

“What?” Jaime’s tone was incredulous as he spat back at his twin. “You literally did the work you were assigned to do. For weeks you’ve tried to get Horace or me to take over your share of the tasks. So because you  _ actually  _ had to do something, that’s Brienne’s problem? And I’m fairly certain that I told you not to call her names!”

The twins began to bicker back and forth once more, but Brienne just wanted to get out of the carriage. She would rather walk than endure them screaming at one another for the entire ride. Mercifully, they arrived at Lazyn’s estate to suffer through the latest miseries afforded by life in exile. 

On the outside, Brienne appeared as calm as a lake at dusk following a sunny day, but on the inside, her emotions were closer to the turbulent seas of a violent storm. Brienne’s heart pleaded with her to accept Addam’s words and Jaime’s confession as truth. Still, Brienne’s mind reminded her of a snowy courtyard and another speech from Jaime. Words that mirrored an entire lifetime of Brienne’s consideration from others.

_ Could everyone I’ve ever met be wrong about me? Could someone love me and actually want to stay with me? Could it be the same man who seemed happier to die with another than live with me? _

Throughout the day, Brienne glimpsed at Jaime. She stared at the bloodstains on his tunic and noted the sadness lining his face. She watched the tense interactions between Jaime and his twin; the disdain on his face with every complaint that spilled from Cersei’s lips.

Cersei’s voice was harsh in her reprimands towards Jaime. “Gods! You're worthless. Let go of that!” He didn’t even seem phased by her cruelty. Indifference. It was the only way that Brienne could think to describe Jaime’s attitude towards Cersei.

_ Perhaps he only feels for me, because he is fed up with her. That would seem more likely. More reasonable than thinking he could have otherwise preferred me to Cersei. _

Still, the nagging whispers of Brienne’s heart gnawed at her. Brienne wondered why Jaime would endure such pain for her, and why he would protect her so fiercely if she was only a better option rather than a true desire. 

As Brienne carried a pile of clean linens towards the storage room, a guard rounded a corner and barreled into her. The linens fell to the ground as Brienne covered her swell to protect the innocent within. With a heavy sigh, Brienne stared at the scattered linens that would need refolding. Rapid footsteps approached her side, and it was then that she saw Jaime come into view. Setting down his own pile of linens, Jaime helped her collect what she dropped.

“Are you alright?” 

Brienne nodded and kept her eyes fixed on the linens. The fabric was thin but rough; not unlike the sheets on her bed at Winterfell. When Jaime’s hand grazed her own, she felt transported back to the room. She remembered laughing with him over little things; the seemingly insignificant details of everyday life. They had at least been free then. She was free to serve a worthy cause, and he was free to leave. And he did. 

Gathering the linens quickly in her arms, Brienne walked towards the storage room. She needed to get away from Jaime. Brienne wanted her mind to be free from it all. Things were simpler before she became his whore. She was just an ugly woman with a sword who no one paid much mind to. 

Of course, escaping Jaime in exile was impossible. Not a moment later after entering the room and dropping the crumpled linens onto the table, Jaime moved in with his own pile. 

“Brienne. Are you certain you’re alright?”

Brienne’s chest tightened. Pressing her palms flat onto the table, Brienne leaned her weight forward and closed her eyes. “Why are you helping me?”  _ Helping me with chores. Helping me with my wound. Helping me live.  _

Jaime’s footsteps preceded his words as he placed his pile of neatly stacked linens beside her mess of tangled sheets. “Why did you help me in the Riverlands?”

_ Is that what this is? A perceived debt is owed.  _

“I swore an oath.”

Jaime turned his back to the table and leaned against it. His left hand grabbed at the edge only a few inches from her own. “Well I swore an oath too. Perhaps I failed to speak the words out loud at Winterfell, but I said them  _ every day _ .”

With a heavy sigh, Brienne tilted her head to the side to glance at him. “You swore to fight for the living, and you did. What does that have to…”

Before Brienne could finish, Jaime cut her off. “No. That was a pledge. My oath was to you. I am hers, and she is mine.”

Any resolve to maintain her icy demeanour towards Jaime shattered. Her eyes went wide and Brienne straightened at the words. Involuntarily, her head began to shake in refute.  _ No. He can’t mean that.  _

As Brienne’s foot stepped backwards, Jaime followed her. “ _ Every day _ . From this day, until the end of my days.”

Brienne’s eyes welled with tears. She turned her head away in a poor attempt to hide from the only person with the capacity to break her. When Jaime’s hand came to her cheek, Brienne felt the tears fall from the corners of her eyes. His own voice was thick with tears when he spoke.

“I’m sorry, Brienne. I never wanted to leave. I wanted to stay, but I didn’t deserve it.”

_ Deserve it?  _

Brienne looked to him then and saw dampness on his own cheeks. She recalled her own voice from so many years ago.  _ ‘Your crimes are past forgiveness Kingslayer.’ _

“You’re not like her. You’re a good man.”

Jaime closed the space between them. His lips were warm and gentle and everything she remembered in her dreams. With Brienne’s back to the shelf, Jaime pressed as close as Brienne’s swell allowed. There was a softness to his kiss that Brienne did not feel the first time they came together at Winterfell. That night had been a desperate urgency. It felt like years of coiled up tension being snapped.

The way Jaime kissed her now felt like a promise. He mumbled in between delicate kisses to her lips. “I love you. Only you.”

Brienne’s body sank into his touch. Her hands instinctively moved to his face as they often had in a small room to the northwest. As her fingertips touched the light stubble at his chin, Jaime whimpered and pulled her closer with his right arm. 

His kiss deepened and Brienne welcomed it. Their tongues met in a gentle caress that Brienne wished would never end. It seemed that if they closed their eyes for long enough, they could take themselves somewhere else. 

Jaime’s left hand lowered from her cheek to her neck. His thumb brushed against her skin, and sent a chill down Brienne’s spine. For so many moons, Brienne thought to never know tender touch again. She resigned herself to dying in a pit in the middle of Essos with no one to care. 

As Jaime’s hand slid down her side, he broke the kiss and looked down between them. His eyes were a mix of joy and pain as he stared at her swell. It seemed as though he wanted something that he couldn’t give voice to. His eyes lingered at her swell and his eyes watered once more. 

Taking his hand, Brienne placed it firm on the side of her swell. The heat of Jaime’s hand pressed to her skin had the effect she knew it would. Whenever she placed her own hand firm against her swell, the babe kicked hard. When Jaime felt the movement, he smiled widely and laughed; the sound both tearful and joyous. His head snapped up to meet Brienne’s eyes. “Our babe.”

With an equally wide smile, Brienne nodded. “Our babe.”

Jaime’s lips were back on hers. They were needier than before and Brienne returned the kiss in kind. So lost in themselves were they that both forgot their surroundings. The room seemed to fade away as hands reached out for one another’s body. Abruptly, the door opened to reveal Cersei and Horace. 

Horace quickly set down the linens and rushed from the room, but Cersei stalked towards them slowly and dropped her pile of sheets. The former queen snarled; her eyes locked on Jaime. “Is it yours, Jaime?” 

Cersei’s eyes darted to Brienne’s swell. A fierce protectiveness pooled in Brienne’s gut and she straightened to full height. Sensing Brienne’s shifting thoughts, Jaime stepped before her. “Yes.”

Balling her fists, Cersei began to slam her hands into Jaime’s chest. “How could you!?” 

“Stop it, Cersei!” Jaime tried to still Cersei’s hands, but she was wild. She clawed and slapped as Jaime moved her backwards and away from Brienne. Wildfire danced in Cersei’s eyes when she glanced back at Brienne. 

“How could you fuck that beast!?”

Brienne watched as Jaime’s body tensed. His entire posturing changed as he stood over Cersei and snarled. “Brienne is far more beautiful than you could ever be!”

Something in the words struck Cersei. She stumbled backwards as though stabbed; her eyes wide and frantic. Muttered words flew from Cersei’s lips as her eyes slowly moved from Jaime to Brienne and back to Jaime. 

“It wasn’t Tyrion. It’s you.” 

Jaime seemed as confused as Brienne felt. He shook his head in question, but Cersei was backing up slowly towards the door. Her finger was aimed accusingly at Jaime. “You stay away from me.”

Without another word, Cersei fled from the room. Jaime turned to Brienne and sighed. Clearing his throat, Jaime forced a smile. “I’m sorry about that. She can be... “

Jaime struggled to find the word, though Brienne supplied one. “Dramatic.”

With a small laugh, Jaime shrugged. “I was going to say a cunt, but I suppose a dramatic cunt is more like it.”

Jaime bent down to pick up the sheets that Cersei had dropped. Recognizing they had been gone for some time, Brienne moved quickly to the table to refold the linens she had dropped earlier. They put the sheets away in relative silence, but before they prepared to leave the room, Jaime grabbed her wrist. 

“I’m going to keep you safe. You and our babe.”

Brienne smiled softly and nodded. “You already have.”

Jaime’s shoulders sagged at the words. His hand moved from her wrist and into her palm, lacing their fingers together. Unspoken oaths passed between them as Jaime led her from the room. For the rest of the day, they worked as a team. Jaime’s hand lingered on her back, hip, and arm as they moved around one another. Soft smiles and knowing stares communicated what their lips could not under the scrutinizing eyes of Azlek and Tynor. 

In the latter part of the day, Horace and Cersei went to Lazyn’s room to change out the linens once more. It was one of the master’s poorer days with his bowels failing him on more than one occasion. When at last Horace returned, he had a strange look on his face.

His eyes lingered on Jaime for a moment before he spoke quietly. “I think your sister’s babe is coming. She’s having pains.”

Brienne’s eyes went wide and she glanced at Jaime. She could see the conflict on his face. With a heavy sigh, he glanced back at the holding before turning back to his bucket of olives. Leaning towards him, Brienne spoke sincerely. 

“You should go to her.”

Conflict played out on Jaime’s features, but Brienne only shook her head. “Go on.”

A small laugh pushed past Jaime’s lips. He pulled Brienne close and placed a gentle kiss to her lips. “She would do you no such kindness.”

“I’m not her. Neither are you.”

Not long after, the carriage pulled into the courtyard. Jaime had tried to support Cersei, but she fought him the entire way. She was enraged and in pain. Her hand gripped at her swell as she moved into the carriage. Jaime held Brienne close as Cersei writhed in agony and refused all offered aid. 

They were nearly back to the holding when Cersei’s water broke. Brienne leaned across to hold Cersei’s shoulder as she almost fell forward in pain. 

“Get your hands off me!” 

Retracting her hand only once she was confident that Cersei would not fall, Brienne sat back and Jaime tugged her close. The carriage pulled into the courtyard and Jaime jumped out. He called for the healer before turning to offer a hand to Cersei, but she only screamed at him not to touch her. 

When the guards came to the carriage, they were able to encourage Cersei down and bring her inside. Despite it all, Brienne prayed to the gods that Cersei would deliver the babe safely. No one deserved to die on the birthing bed. 

That night, Jaime curled up behind Brienne and wrapped his arms around her. His hand rested on her swell; his thumb gently rubbing lazily over Brienne’s tunic. With her mind wandering to Cersei, Brienne questioned Jaime quietly as the men slept soundly behind them. “Do you fancy a boy or a girl?”

Jaime hummed in reply. When he spoke, his lips moved against her neck. “I’ll be happy with whatever we have.”

A huff of laughter pushed past Brienne’s lips. “I mean your babe with Cersei. I hope they’re alright.”

“That babe is Cersei’s. None of them were ever mine. My babe is right here.” 

Soon, Brienne felt Jaime’s breathing change and she knew that he had fallen asleep. The words were strange as Brienne considered them. A pang of sympathy for Jaime struck her.  _ He truly feels that ours is his first.  _

The next day was a day of fighting. A somber atmosphere fell over their group as everyone readied for the day. With death standing before them, Brienne forgot that Cersei had been in labor. As they sat down to eat, Horace sat across from them. 

“Both are healthy. A boy. Loud as anything I’ve ever heard…. And black of hair.” A knowing smile tugged at Horace’s lips as he looked down at his meager offering of porridge. 

Brienne’s jaw went slack as she glanced at Jaime. At his side, Addam guffawed and clapped loudly. “Congratulations, Jaime! For once, you are not the father. I’m so proud of you.”

Addam grabbed Jaime’s shoulders and shook him teasingly. Even the Stormlands knights snickered from across the table and at Brienne’s side. 

A warm hand reached for her knee. Turning to look at Jaime once more, Brienne considered that he had never seemed so relieved. He smiled easily at her and leaned over to kiss the corner of her lips.

“Quiet!” One of the guards barked at them from the doorway. Glancing up, Brienne saw the guard’s face red with rage. Beside the guard, Daario stared at her and Jaime curiously. He lingered for a moment before turning to walk away.


	13. The Arrival of Krakens

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Cersei's babe arrives in King's Landing. Daenerys has a new plan.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Bit of a time jump here. Around 2-3 weeks since the last chapter.

Daenerys stared at the sleeping babe in the arms of a wet nurse. “What is that?”

Lifting her suspicious eyes from the babe to the wet nurse, Daenerys glared at the woman. They stood in the small council chambers after holding court that morning. Daenerys had been leading the meeting when word arrived that the ship from Meereen carrying Cersei’s babe arrived at the docks. 

“Ya Grace? It’s… it’s a babe.” The woman’s eyes were confused as she looked innocently at Daenerys. 

The small council looked strangely at Daenerys, but no one moved to aid the wet nurse. “I know that!” Daenerys snarled at the woman. Her left hand reached towards the babe and tugged down the swaddling. Black hair had poked out from the linen, but now, the entire head was exposed. “That babe is _not_ a lion. What. Is. It.”

Bronn snorted and whispered loud enough to reach Daenerys' ears. "Does she not rememb..."

“It is a lion.” Bran’s voice called out ominously at Daenerys’ back and cut off Bronn. “A lion and a kraken. The babe is Euron’s.”

A chill ran down Daenerys’ spine at the mention of the man who killed her child. Turning on heel, Daenerys moved slowly towards the table. Over the moon turns, her appetite had waned and her muscles ached. Thin fingers reached out for the table as Daenerys’ palms pressed flat onto the wood.

“You only thought to inform me of this now? I thought her babe was by the Kingslayer.”

Shaking his head in refute, Bran spoke quietly as though the information mattered little. “I never said it was his, nor did I say it was Euron’s. To be honest, I had not considered looking into that particular event. There are some things I would rather not see.”

Letting out a shaky breath, Daenerys narrowed her eyes at Bran. “Does the Kingslayer know it isn't his babe?”

“Yes. It is known.” At the familiar phrasing, Daenerys felt mounting paranoia spread through her body. The creature that occupied Bran Stark’s body unnerved her more now than ever before. Despite keeping Bran close, he did not seem attainable. His mind offered commitment to no one save history.

Glancing back at the babe in the wet nurse’s arms, Daenerys felt rage brew within. She had wanted Jaime, Brienne, and Cersei to suffer. A desire to see Brienne suffer through the twin-lovers consumed Daenerys. A desperate wish for the ugly woman and Kingslayer to perish in the pits overwhelmed her daily thoughts. At the visual confirmation of Cersei’s infidelity, it struck Daenerys that the Kingslayer knew the truth. 

_This will only encourage him back to that ugly beast. In a fit of jealousy and rage, he’ll crawl back to her. I can’t have them happy._

“Bran. Did jealousy sway the Kingslayer back to his whore?”

Glancing over her shoulder, Daenerys felt a chill at the easy smile that tugged at the young man’s lips. “Jealousy? The only one who experienced jealousy in Meereen is Cersei. Jaime and Brienne are stronger than ever. Their hearts united before the babe was born. They live together as they fight together. As one.”

_No! This will not stand._

“Tyrion, fetch some parchment and a quill. I have something for you to transcribe to Zharin.”

At her command, Tyrion rose uneasily from his seat. He moved towards a corner table to collect parchment and quill. As he moved back to the table, Daenerys recalled the visit to the cells just over a moon turn ago. A visit to her _guest_.

_One moon turn prior_

“As I said, ya Grace, ya’ll find him much more agreeable than when ya last visited.”

Stepping past Bronn as he held open the door to the cells, Daenerys allowed her torchlight to lead the way. The cells were musty and dark. A stench of piss filled the air as she moved past prisoners on each side.

Since taking the throne, the cells were filled to capacity. Trials were expedited to ensure cells were available for more people guilty of treason, of which there seemed a never-ending supply. Groans of disheartened prisoners filled the air as Daenerys made her way towards the last cell on the left hand side. 

At her back, Bronn moved quickly with a key. He opened the door for Daenerys and waited for her to step inside before following with a hand at his hip. While the prisoner was chained, Daenerys did not trust him. He was a resourceful man who knew the secrets of the Red Keep better than herself. 

Studying the disgraced maester, Daenerys spoke sternly. “Are you ready to talk, Qyburn?”

The man’s eyes lifted slowly to her. His gaze appeared dead as he glanced between her and Bronn. “Yes, your Grace.”

During Daenerys victory over Cersei’s forces, the only true stand made was in the Red Keep. According to Bran, the Clegane brothers dueled to the death. Both took mortal wounds as the Lannister twins made their way to the awaiting boat. In an effort to get Gregor Clegane to follow his queen rather than fight his brother, Qyburn had grabbed the monstrous man’s arm. The act nearly cost Qyburn his life.

Ser Gregor flung Qyburn down half a flight of stairs. The maester was badly injured, but drawing breath when Daenerys' men found him. They treated him only well-enough to keep him alive for questioning. In the initial moons, the maester was too weak to talk or recall or what happened. Then things became clear, but he refused to speak. 

“I’m glad to hear you’re more agreeable. I’ll ask the questions, and you’ll give me only accurate answers. As you know, I have my ways of confirming the truth. Now, lets begin…”

Daenerys stepped towards the wall and leaned casually as she stared at the morally defeated man before her. His clothing was covered in filth as was his skin and hair. He was an older man, but after moons in the cells, his skin was beginning to sag from his bones. Still, all Daenerys saw was Cersei’s right hand man. She thought of Missandi in those final moments and her body shook with rage. Composing herself, Daenerys swallowed down past hurt and looked down her nose at Qyburn.

“My sources tell me that you came to the city many years ago with the Kingslayer. How did that come to pass?”

The man swallowed thickly and spoke; his voice gravelly from disuse. “I had been serving House Bolton of the North. Lord Bolton had me serving at Harrenhal during the war between House Stark and the crown. While there, one of Lord Bolton’s officers captured the Kingslayer and his captor, Brienne Tarth. They had been sent off in secret by Lady Stark from her son’s camp.”

Of course, Daenerys knew that part. When Brienne stood in defense of the Kingslayer, she spoke of the man losing his hand for her while held captive. “Yes, I hear that is when he lost the hand for the woman. Tell me how you came to return to this city with them.”

With a heavy sigh, Qyburn looked to the floor. “Lord Bolton betrayed his king and plotted with Lord Tywin Lannister. He couldn’t have the Kingslayer killed, or it would mean his head. He sent me with another guard to escort him back to King’s Landing.”

“And the ugly woman? How was she allowed free?” Daenerys narrowed her eyes at the man before her. He shifted from his position on the floor and leaned back against the damp stonework at his back.

“She was ordered to remain behind as a reward for Locke; the officer who found them in the Riverlands. He sent a ransom to her father, but he found the offer lacking…”

Daenerys smiled at the information. She felt her confidence in Selwyn grow and belief in his disregard for Brienne true. _Good. Perhaps I can consider trusting him more._

Tilting her head in question, Daenerys considered the words. “Then how is it that she came to live?”

Qyburn’s eyes lifted to Daenerys for the first time since she entered the cell. “The Kingslayer. I told him that Locke would likely use her for entertainment and kill her. He became agitated at that and demanded the group return him to Harrenhal. He said that he ‘forgot something’. When we arrived, Locke and his men had thrown her into a bear pit with naught but a wooden sword to defend herself. When Locke refused to let her out, Ser… the Kingslayer jumped into the pit to save her. Foolish plan, really. He had no weapon on him. The man leading our group had no option but to intercede. He couldn’t allow Lord Tywin’s son to die, so he shot the bear using a crossbow.”

_Why would he risk his life when his sister-lover waited for him?_

Daenerys questioned the man further about what he observed in King’s Landing over the years, how he came into service of Cersei, and what transpired between the twins that drove the Kingslayer north. 

Despite his power, Bran had proved useless for sharing information. He didn’t feel it vital and feigned ignorance. _“Why would I follow the twins for years when what interested me was across the Narrow Sea, your Grace.”_

When Daenerys had all the information she sought, she mounted Qyburn’s head on a spike atop the city gates. He knew too much, and Daenerys believed that he was conspiring against her somehow. That his loyalty remained with Cersei. 

_Lannister loyalist once in service to a lord who would betray his own king. I’ll not trust him either._

  
  


Now as Daenerys stared at the kraken babe presented before her and Tyrion took a seat, Daenerys tilted her chin and sneered. 

“Write my words without question, Tyrion. Zharin - I have another match that must be honored in the fighting pit. If they still live by the time this missive reaches you, I want the ugly woman and the Kingslayer to fight together against a bear with only wooden swords in hand.”

Tyrion paused; his hand in midair and his breathing labored. She could see the tears forming in Tyrion’s eyes and he swallowed thickly. When his lips parted to speak, Daenerys snarled at him. “Are you about to defy me, Lord Hand?”

Shaking his head in refute, Tyrion continued writing the missive. Daenerys continued providing her instructions. “To announce the match, inform the crowd of the following. ‘When not even a father would pay her ransom, an unlovable woman was put into a pit with a bear and wooden sword. Her crippled knight did not save her, but an arrow did. Today, we will see if history repeats itself, or corrects itself.’ When you finish writing, I’ll sign my name.”

Daenerys watched with satisfaction as silent tears spilled from Tyrion’s eyes and dampened the parchment below his quill. A satisfied smile tugged at her lips before her eyes appraised the rest of the Westerosi. All sat silently with their eyes downcast. The sight of them dejected unsettled Daenerys. _They should not care. They should be pleased. Treason._

Glancing at Grey Worm, Daenerys noticed a peculiar expression on his face. “Torgo. Bring me the missive. I want to ensure our Lord Hand transcribes better than he plans wars.”

With a firm nod of his head, Grey Worm stood and retrieved the parchment from Tyrion. Wordless, he walked towards Daenerys and handed her the letter. She thanked him in Valyrian and appraised the words. They were as she stated. 

Moving to the table, Daenerys signed her name and instructed Tyrion to seal it. “Torgo, I need this brought to the ship that just arrived from Essos. Tell the captain that he is to leave immediately. I want this missive there before another babe shows up in Westeros. Who knows. Perhaps that one is no lion either. A Wildling perhaps or some desperate Northman. The feast was a blur and men desperate.”

Before Torgo left, Daenerys spoke to him in Valyrian once more and instructed him to see her when he returned. 

Turning back to the wet nurse, Daenerys appraised the babe once more. “Tyrion, ensure the wet nurse gets settled in the room that I had prepared. We don’t harm babes here. Only traitors to the crown.” 

“You only harm babes in Essos then?” Bran’s voice was monotone from his seat beside Davos. 

Daenerys tilted her head in question. “I’ve harmed no babes in Essos.”

“No? What of the babe in Ser Brienne’s womb? Is that not an injustice? I thought you meant to answer injustice with justice.” 

As he had so many times before, Bran used Daeenrys’ words against her. “I did not condemn the babe to die. I commanded its mother to fight.”

“Without a proper weapon at what will be over eight moons pregnant by the time your instruction arrives.”

Daenerys shrugged and her tone was one of indifference. “All men must die.”

“ _But she is not a man_.” Once more, Bran turned Daenerys’ words against her. A strange expression met Daenerys' steely gaze when she lifted her eyes to Bran. “Once for blood. Once for gold. Once for love. You cannot kill love. It will always win.”

Daenerys’ mind thought back to her love. Her unborn babe. Drogo; her moon and stars. Taking a step towards Bran, Daenerys spoke challengingly. “Oh no? My love was killed. My moon and stars. My unborn babe.”

“Khalakka dothrae mr’anha! Ma me nem ahakee ma Rhaego!” Bran’s word from what felt a lifetime ago sent a chill down Daenerys’ spine. Her jaw clenched as she stared at Bran. It felt as though he could see into the depths of her. He clawed and tore at her innards and left her exposed and weak. “You think the death of their bodies killed that love? You saw them in the House of the Undying. They’re waiting for you. Your moon and stars and your Rhaego. Ser Jaime will fight for his sun and his unborn babe.”

The words set off a storm in Daenerys. Glancing at Tyrion who stood rooted in place near the wet nurse, Daenerys growled. “I said go!”

_Treason. Treason everywhere. I need it all gone. Fire and blood is the only way._

“Bronn. I want all the prisoners assembled outside the city gates. The city is teeming with treason.” The sellsword stood slowly and nodded. 

Something lingered in his eyes… in all their eyes… that Daenerys did not like. The small voice long silenced and pushed to the recesses of her mind cried out.

_They are the people. Bronn and Davos. Lowborn. You’ll lose them all._

Daenerys shook the thought from her head. 

_I won’t! They just don’t see it. They don’t see how their people defy me. How they plot against me. They all want my throne. My father knew better than any of them. Fire and blood. It is the only way._

An hour passed before her orders were completed. Bronn entered the throne room to confirm that all prisoners were assembled outside the gates. Sitting atop the iron throne in the empty hall, Daenerys nodded numbly. “I’ll meet you outside the gates. Go.”

Shortly after Bronn left, Grey Worm returned. Rising from her throne, Daenerys descended the steps. She studied the face of her friend; her last true friend. 

“Torgo. Tell me of small council. You seemed… bothered.”

Grey Worm glanced away and Daenerys watched as his face fell. “The babe… just an innocent. Why Brienne must do this fight now?”

Daenerys considered her friend. She licked her lips to moisten them before speaking. “The babe might be an innocent, but Brienne is not. She aided the man who killed my father and meant to kill me. The Lannisters killed Missandei and Rhaegal. Their actions led to Jorah’s death. They are not innocent either.”

“Cersei do that. Her brother only protect her. He ring the bells. He love Brienne.”

Frustration built in Daenerys. _Why can’t he see it? Treason for love. They’ll kill me._

“There is a prophecy that has come true in every way except for this last. _They_ are the last part. Jaime and Brienne. If I allow them to live, they will kill me. The babe will be given to Lord Selwyn when it is born. I will _not_ harm their babe.”

Grey Worm nodded in reply, but Daenerys could see the hesitance on his face. Tilting up her chin, Daenerys considered him. “Missandei was a peaceful woman. I miss her terribly. In her honor, I will allow someone of your choosing to be spared from execution this day.”

Grey Worm’s brows furrowed at the words. “Execution?”

“Come with me to the gates. The prisoners are lined up to await final judgement. We need room in the cells for more traitors to the crown. I hear the whispers of the people. They are coming for me, Torgo. I need your help. _Please_ , don’t let them harm me.”

“I guard you.” Grey Worm straightened at the words. They walked forward together and made their way into the courtyard. They would ride to the city gates and judge the people according to their crimes.

Upon arrival, Daenerys appraised the prisoners. One hundred stood before her with their backs against the city wall. Most were men and women of varying stations. A handful were older children, but they too were guilty. 

Turning to Grey Worm, Daenerys offered a small smile and nodded. “Pick one… for our friend.”

Grey Worm’s lips parted and he glanced at the prisoners. Yet again, a strange expression masked his features. Stepping forward, Grey Worm walked the rows and stepped into the crowd. He crouched and extended his hand towards someone in the back row who Daenerys could not see.

When he stepped forward, his eyes looked strange. In his hand, he pulled a girl who looked no older than ten. She was crying and clinging to something in her hands. A doll. _I don’t remember this one. I recall no children of this age being placed in the cells._

Moving back to Daenerys’ side, Grey Worm stared ahead blankly. The little girl continued to sob at his side. “Momma. I want Momma.”

_Mysha. Mysha. Mysha._

Taking a deep breath, Daenerys steeled herself. T _hey had trials already. They spoke treason._

Looking to the sky, Daenerys watched as her last living child circled above and began to lower himself to her back. Bronn watched the dragon with great unease as he stood to her side. When Drogon touched down, the prisoners screamed in fear and clung together. Picking up the sobbing little girl, Grey Worm held her firmly as she clawed and flailed. 

“When Lord Varys committed lies to parchment of a false Targaryen in Westeros, I had him executed by dragonfire. Lord Tyrion argued against it. He said that in Westeros, this is not the way. I’ve tried offering fair judgement and traditional Westerosi method of execution to those found guilty of similar treasons. Still, you all defy me despite my benevolence. I am Daenerys Stormborn of the blood of Old Valyria, and I will take what is mine. With fire and blood, I will take it. Dracarys.”


	14. The Unity of Countrymen

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jaime and Brienne continue to fight for their lives in Essos, and Jaime pushes the issue of names.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Like the last chapter that had a time jump of 2-3 weeks, this chapter does as well. It's a moon turn since Cersei gave birth. That puts Brienne just over eight months pregnant.

“Sword!” Brienne extended her hand to catch the shortsword that Mattix tossed her way. Catching the blade by the hilt, Brienne spun and swung hard into the head of an approaching opponent. 

Blood sprayed from the man’s skull as Brienne yanked the blade from his head. Turning around, she saw Anson lose his weapon as he stumbled backwards. With precision that would make Tarth proud, Brienne flung the shortsword as she would an axe. 

The weapon turned end over end until the jagged edge met flesh. Screaming in pain, Anson’s assailant dropped his morningstar. Anson picked up the weapon and slammed it into the man’s neck. A stream of blood shot into the air from all directions. 

In the distance, Jaime commanded Kent to a knee as he thrust a spear into their opponent’s throat. With all opponents dead at their feet and the ground tinted with blood, Brienne raised her head towards the royal box. Daario sat smug as ever and clapped slowly. The nobles at his side did not share in his amusement as the crowd began to jeer their victory.

Nearly a moon turn had passed since Cersei birthed her babe. In the last four battles, their group moved as one. It seemed as though the mending of Brienne and Jaime’s love united their group. Their group stood definitely before the crowd and took a mock bow before shuffling towards the exit.

When they arrived in the holding room, Addam flopped to the bench and sighed. “They’re going to run out of opponents. They’re getting weaker.” 

Brienne sat down and caught her breath. At just over eight moons, Brienne found her body slowing. It was proving more and more difficult to keep up in the pits, but the men protected her fiercely. Brienne thought back to the day following Cersei’s delivery when they arrived at the fighting pit.

_ A moon turn prior _

Jaime pressed close at Brienne’s side as they waited into the holding room at the fighting pit. She had been surprised to hear that Cersei’s babe looked more Greyjoy than Lannister. Horace had shared that Cersei raged and cursed Euron’s name as she birthed the babe. 

The fact had not surprised Jaime, but she worried for him. He had thought the babe his all along, and despite the rift between the twins, it was still a betrayal. On the carriage ride over, she had inquired about his true feelings, but he only expressed relief. 

_ “I feel… free of her. It feels good. I’m happy her babe is safe now, but I need to focus on ours.” _

As they sat in the room and awaited Zharin’s arrival, Anson spoke teasingly. “Now that you’re conscious again, Ser Brienne, I would appreciate it if you didn't try and birth your babe in the middle of the match. That swell isn’t getting any smaller.”

Glancing down at her swell, Brienne sighed. “The babe best not come during a match. That would be terribly inconvenient.”

Mattix scoffed in reply. “Well its father is terribly inconvenient, so it wouldn’t be a surprise.”

“I don’t seem to recall you thinking me inconvenient when I saved your life the other week.” Jaime raised a brow at Mattix, but before he could reply, Axell called out in question.

“What!? Are you saying that’s the Kingslayer’s babe?”

The Stormlands knights ignored Axell, and Mattix continued his banter with Jamie. “Oh? Did I not save you as well, or is there another one-handed, obnoxious lion among us? Perhaps I’m confusing things.”

From the back of the room, Axell’s voice called out again. “Did anyone hear me? It was the Kingslayer who won the bet!?”

“There was no bet, you dolt! Her maidenhead was lost to love.” Addam huffed at Axell in reply, but all Brienne could consider was Mattix’s initial words.  _ The babe is close to coming, but not soon enough. I’ll have more matches to endure yet with this one in my belly.  _

  
  


Now as Brienne sat in the holding room, she considered the men before her. Of those remaining, Addam and the Stormlands knight had come voluntarily. Axell was only there for true refusal to bend, but even he had demonstrated a kindness towards Brienne that was most unexpected. The men had become her shield as her own arm proved less and less capable. 

_ I’ll never be able to thank these men enough if this babe is birthed before the pit takes me.  _

The guards entered the room and encouraged their group towards the awaiting carriage. Every week that Brienne left the pit alive was another week closer to delivering her babe into her father’s arms rather than the Stranger’s. 

That night at supper, Cersei sat opposite them for the first time since birthing her babe. She looked up through her lashes and glared at Jaime. “Meet me in the storage room on the morrow.”

Jaime snorted and shifted closer to Brienne. “Fuck off, Cersei.”

“This is your last chance. You’ll regret it.” There was something ominous in her voice that unnerved Brienne. Her eyes narrowed at the woman, but she gave nothing else away.

“My only regret is not abandoning you sooner. Leave me be.”

Addam snickered at Jaime’s side and it took everything in Brienne not to laugh. “Now Jaime, that is no way to speak to Cersei Hill, queen of exile, first of her name, cleaner of goat shit and soiled linens, protector of the olives and mother of krakens.”

Cersei snarled at Addam and leaned over the table. Her voice was a whisper, but sharp. “Fuck off, Addam. I’m getting out of here, and when I do, I’ll certainly not help you on the path home.”

Addam smiled and took another bite of his food. Crumbs spilled from his lips as he replied teasingly. “Is that supposed to be a threat? It sounds like salvation. Goodbye Cersei. Mind the olives on the way out.”

Standing in a huff, Cersei left the table and stormed towards the room assigned to those serving. 

“She seems a little tense.” Addam spoke nonchalantly at Jaime’s side as he took a bite of his dinner roll. 

With only a chuckle to offer his friend, Jaime turned and smiled softly at Brienne. The way Jaime looked at Brienne always made her feel like she was something to be treasured. She could never reconcile the sentiment with her reflection in the mirror. Glancing down at her food, Brienne focused on finishing as much as she could before the guards came to take it away.

That night in the room, Brienne begged the gods for her babe to arrive soon. She worried about surviving another match in the fighting pits. Brienne beseeched to gods to deliver her babe safely, and then they could do with her as they pleased. 

Shuffling close at her back, Jaime placed his arm around Brienne and held her tightly. As if hearing her prayers, Jaime tugged Brienne to face him. With his forehead pressed against hers, Jaime stared into her eyes.

“We’re going to get out of here. We’ll take our babe where no one can hurt him or her.”

Brienne sighed at the words. It was a nice dream, but it was just that. A dream. If Brienne was still the young woman from Renly’s camp, she would have believed the words. She wasn’t that naïve girl anymore. Brienne had seen war, death, torture, and cruelty. She had experienced pain, betrayal, scorn, and loss.

“What do you want to name the babe?” Jaime’s question frightened Brienne. She was afraid to name a babe that may never feel the warmth of the sun or the tenderness of her embrace.

“I don’t know if we should name the babe. It might… if the babe doesn’t live…”

Without Brienne finishing the thought, Jaime understood. His hand came to her cheek and he shook his head. “Stop. This babe is going to live as are you.”

When Brienne didn’t say anything else, Jaime pushed the topic. “What did you say your mother’s name was?”

“I didn’t. I don’t remember her, and my father never spoke of her.” Brienne wished she could remember something about her mother. Over the years, she wondered if her mother was ugly. Throughout childhood, not knowing the truth had allowed Brienne to maintain hope for her future. 

_ ‘If she was ugly and found someone willing to marry her, perhaps I can too.’ _

Jaime considered Brienne’s words. “And you have no siblings. Did she die birthing you?”

Shaking her head in refute, Brienne summoned the one image of her brother that remained over the years. He was eight when he drowned. His flailing limbs and frantic eyes were all Brienne could recall. “I had an older brother and younger, twin sisters. They all died of course.”

Jaime’s brows furrowed at the words. “Oh. When I guessed at Winterfell… that stupid game… I just assumed you never had siblings. What were their names?”

“Galladon, Alysanne, and Arianne.” 

Jaime hummed in consideration. “Would you want any of those names for our babe?”

The question was one that Brienne had never considered. Having children had been Brienne’s dream as a child, until she realized it was only that. “I don’t think so. They all died so young, and I want our babe to live much longer than they did.”

“Well in that case we should name the babe Aemon, because my brother said that the old Targaryen was still alive when he visited the Wall to piss off it.”

Brienne huffed a laugh at the words. She appreciated how even in the awful situation that was their exile, Jaime could make her smile, if only for a moment. “What names might you want?”

Sarcasm laced Jaime’s tone when he replied with an expression of contrived sincerity. “Tywin or Cersei of course. My favorite Lannisters. Delightful people, and all the things I would hope my child to be.”

Something shifted in Jaime’s eyes and his tone became more sincere. “My mother wasn’t like them. She had a big heart and would do anything for her family. I remember feeling safe with her.”

“She sounds like you.” The words left Brienne’s mouth before she could consider them. Jaime flinched at the words and shook his head in refute. 

“No. She was a good woman.” Jaime’s facial expression turned contemplative before he said his next words. “If she was still alive, I don’t think my father and Cersei would have done all that they did.”

Since meeting Jaime in the Riverlands many years ago, Brienne had known two men; one false and one true. The false Jaime was the Kingslayer. He was arrogant, cutting, selfish, and cruel. It was the Kingslayer who taunted her before their capture by Locke, and it was the Kingslayer who stood at Cersei’s side as she committed atrocities. He was hateful, but he was not real; only a mask.

The true Jaime was the man she loved. He was honorable, loving, selfless, and caring, though terribly rash at times. Jumping into bear pits, screaming sapphires, and charging dragons. It was the true Jaime who saved her from rape and death; who armed her and armored her to keep an oath. That man left Cersei’s side to keep his pledge to fight in the North. He was a good man, even though he erred along the way. Even the true Jaime had his sins, but Brienne loved him all the same.

“What was your mother’s name?” Brienne watched as a small smile tugged at Jaime’s lips.

“Joanna.”

Brienne hummed in consideration. “We should name a girl Joanna. Her description reminds me of you. A good person. I’d like that for our babe.”

Jaime’s lips crashed into Brienne’s and he pulled her closer. Every time Jaime kissed her, the horrors of exile faded away. Brienen felt like she could survive if only they simply stayed pressed close. No one could harm them if they were together. 

They fell asleep slowly as they placed tender kisses to each other’s face. The next day when the guards came in to wake them, Brienne felt better rested than she had most nights. Being so far into her pregnancy, Bienne struggled to find sleep. Her back hurt and the swell at her belly limited her sleeping positions. A burning in her throat kept her awake at night when she reclined, and sore ankles and feet plagued her throughout the day and night. 

They broke their fast and made their way towards the carriage. As he did every morning, Jaime remained at Brienne’s side through it all. “We still need a boy’s name.”

_ Oh gods. Not this again. _

Brienne groaned inwardly. She had indulged Jaime last night by discussing names, but Brienne still feared naming the babe. A name made it all real. A name led to a connection which led to an emotional attachment. Brienne was petrified of developing an attachment to the babe; a babe she would not be allowed to hold or kiss if she was lucky enough to birth the child. 

Taking a deep breath, Brienne reminded herself that the babe’s safety was all that mattered. Her father would raise the child. _ A Tarth. Not a Storm.  _

“How about the name of a great knight? I want our babe to be like you.” Jaime spoke aloud with a wistful smile on his face. “Arthur perhaps? I always wanted to be like Ser Arthur.”

Brienne stepped into the cart as Jaime helped her up. On the right side, Cersei and Horace were already seated together. It was likely that Cersei sat first, and Horace learned not to challenge Jaime for a seat next to Brienne. Jaime would sit on Horace’s lap before moving next to his sister.

As he stepped into the carriage, Jaime continued talking with little regard for the others present. “Perhaps Duncan? I never read much of the White Book, but his entry was quite impressive. It was certainly the longest that I recall reading. They say he was  _ massive _ .”

Jaime sat beside Brienne as he rambled. She digested his words and responded absently. “Not much taller than my father, but broader.”

Laughter shook Jaime’s shoulders as he draped his arm around her. “Oh? I don’t recall them actually detailing his size in the White Book. Perhaps you read something that I didn’t.”

Brienne hadn’t spent much time reading through the Book of Brothers on the day that Jaime gifted her Oathkeeper, but her eyes had lingered on Ser Duncan’s pages. 

“No, I imagine not. Still, my father’s memory is good enough. The shield is quite large too, so his recollection seems fair.” Brienne picked at a loose thread on the ratty tunic she had been afforded. Despite being far too bulky in the shoulders, it was still an improvement from the awful dress.

Jaime turned slightly and his eyes narrowed at Brienne. “Shield? Wait, your father knew him?”

Brienne offered Jaime a look that did little to break his self-deprecating assertion that he was the stupidest Lannister. “Of course. He was old enough before Summerhall happened. He spent ample time with him… well… as much as he could realistically. You of all people know what the schedule of the Lord Commander is like.”

“Uh… why would Ser Duncan have spent time with your father?”

Brienne snorted at the words. “The same reason any grandfather would spend time with his grandchildren.”

Jaime’s jaw dropped. “You’re related to Ser Duncan? As in…  _ the  _ Ser Duncan.”

“Is there another one?” Brienne’s brows furrowed as she looked at Jaime in disbelief. “Surely I had mentioned it.”

“You did no such thing!” Jaime was beside himself. Across the cart, Cersei and Horace took notice of Jaime’s agitated state. “How could you not tell me this!? This is… wait, do you have his shield!? On Tarth?”

“Yes. In the armory.” Brienne answered his question, though her mind was occupied searching memories from the moon turn at Winterfell.  _ Had I not mentioned it? Did it truly never come up? I suppose I would have no reason to raise the topic.  _

Jaime clutched his chest in offense. “I said in the Riverlands that we should get to know one another. Why had this not come up then? I’d have proposed marriage on the spot.”

An unladylike snort flew from Brienne. “Before or after you tried to kill me with my own sword?”

“Oh,  _ definitely  _ before. I’d still have to fight you to test the lineage though.” The sincerity in Jaime’s voice was laughable. 

Brienne’s eyes rolled in reply. “Doesn’t take much I suppose.” The thread that Brienne had been tugging at broke away and she dropped it to the bottom of the cart. 

“The bath helped.” Jaime bit his lip and chuckled lightly. “That would have sealed it.”

“Excuse me!? A bath?” Cersei’s voice flew across the carriage as a sword might cut through its target. Her narrowed eyes felt like a barrier pushing between Jaime and Brienne.

Any amusement from the earlier conversation faded as Brienne glanced between the twins. It occurred to Brienne that of course Jaime would not have detailed elements of his journey home from Robb’s camp. 

“Do you recall what baths are, sister? I know it has been some time since you lounged in one, but surely you’ve not forgotten the concept. They’re meant to…”

“I know what a bath is, Jaime!” Cersei snapped; her eyes cold and deadly.

“Good. You’re familiar with its purpose then. Ser Brienne and I shared a lovely bath at Harrenhal before a most  _ charming  _ dinner with Roose Bolton. It was very nice. Very  _ revealing… _ ” 

Jaime turned and grinned at Brienne. The dual meaning of his comment was not lost on Brienne. Considering the matter settled with Cersei, Jaime began to inquire after Duncan again, but the former queen cut him off.

“How dare you! I worried for your safe return every day, and yet you betrayed me by sullying yourself with that  _ thing _ .”

Brienne saw Jaime’s jaw clench before he turned his attention back to Cersei. Something shifted in his eyes before he replied. A storm was swirling in the carriage as it jostled up the hill, and Brienne was in no physical condition to step between the twins. 

With a snide tone, Jaime leaned forward and returned Cersei’s glare. “Sullying myself? Yes, I had been… for most of my life to that point. Fortunately, I was able to meet Brienne and  _ cleanse  _ myself. Tyrion tells me that you did do quite a lot of  _ worrying  _ while I was away though. You nearly  _ worried  _ yourself ragged with Lancel and Osney and gods only knows who else.”

A knowing smirk stretched across Jaime’s face and he sat back smugly. Cersei’s chest began to heave with anger and the tension in the carriage became palpable. To Cersei’s side, Horace slowly slid down the bench and stared intently towards the front.

Cersei’s voice shook with rage as she continued to stare at Jaime. “I did what I had to do when you abandoned me. If you hadn’t ridden off to defend that little monster...”

“ _ Our brother _ . I would do it again gladly. Now if you could refrain from interrupting. My lady and I are discussing names for our babe.”

As Jaime turned his head towards Brienne, Cersei’s hand raised and she lunged across the carriage. Something snapped inside Brienne. Her hand reached out and grabbed Cersei’s dainty wrist. With her significant advantage in size and strength over Cersei, Brienne was able to hold the smaller woman back by her wrist alone. 

Brienne’s lip curled as she glared at the former queen. “Touch him and you’ll learn what it’s like to lose a hand.” 

Brienne could feel her heart hammering in her chest. The adrenaline coursing through Brienne’s body faded upon recognition that the threat to Jaime was contained, but shock at her own boldness soon took over. It was only then that Brienne realized all three carriage occupants were staring at her in surprise. 

Cersei’s eyes never left Brienne, but she yanked her hand away and slowly sat down beside Horace. As the two women glared at one another, Brienne felt Jaime’s hand on her cheek, tugging her head towards his.

As her eyes left Cersei, Brienne had only a moment to process Jaime’s head moving towards her. He kissed her firmly as his right arm tugged her close. When Jaime broke the kiss, his face remained close enough that their foreheads mimicked their lips actions from a heartbeat earlier. 

“Harren for a boy. It was Harrenhal when I fell in love with you, even if it took me some time to admit it to myself.”


	15. The Binding of Souls

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jaime reflects on the state of things as they work in Lazyn's estate. There is one mistake he hopes to correct sooner than the rest.

When Brienne defended Jaime in the carriage, his heart soared. He had loved Brienne with all of himself before that point, but that she would stand up for him after everything he had put her through meant everything. The act transported Jaime back to Winterfell when Brienne stood between him and death. She vouched for him with complete disregard for how it might impact her standing with House Stark or their chosen queen, Daenerys Targaryen.

The day at Lazyn’s estate was a blur. Jaime could not stop gazing longingly at Brienne as they trudged through every assignment given by Azlek or Tynor. Both women eyed them suspiciously throughout the day, though Jaime mused it might have been because of his inability to stop staring at Brienne.

He knew it was absurd. Jaime could feel himself drifting along from task to task, but his mind was consumed by Brienne and their babe. She was close, painfully close, to birthing the babe. Jaime felt an incredible conflict within. 

Part of Jaime didn’t want Brienne to birth the babe knowing that the child would be immediately taken from them. Jaime didn’t want to be separated from their babe, and while he would never express his concern to Brienne for fear of upsetting her, Jaime wondered if Daenerys’ offer was genuine.  _ Will she truly let Selwyn take the babe? What if she harms our child in some way? She despises me… why would she allow any part of me to live, when she clearly wants me dead. _

Another part of Jaime was petrified with Brienne pregnant. He could see her declining abilities every week in the fighting pit. The fighting pit was no place for a pregnant woman, and being forced into such a dangerous situation could mean death for both Brienne and the babe.  _ I could lose them both if she doesn’t deliver the babe soon.  _

Through it all, Jaime chastised himself. He hated how his actions put Brienne and their babe in such a horrific situation. As much as Jaime hadn’t believed staying at Winterfell an option, if he had, they might be on Tarth or at the Rock, rather than in an olive field in Meereen. She would be sleeping on a soft bed instead of a stone floor. She would be preparing a nursery rather than preparing to fight for her life every week. She would be birthing a Lannister instead of a bastard.

It was Jaime’s greatest regret. He dishonored Brienne and put a babe in her without wedding her first. If there was one thing that Jaime was tired of, it was bringing bastards into the world. This babe would be his fourth and he hated himself for it. He hated himself more for sullying Brienne in such a way. 

_ I’ll fix this. I have to. _

Throughout the day, Cersei continued to play her games. For as destructive as she could be, Cersei was intelligent and attractive. Both traits were well-known to her and she used them to her advantage. Cersei used her body and mind as Jaime would a sword. He noted how the guards and Lazyn followed her movements. He watched their facial expressions and eyes as she walked by knowing full well what she was doing. Jaime knew because he was once that man. 

Rolling his eyes, Jaime grumbled to himself. His greatest fear was Cersei’s plan backfiring. It was clear that she still sought to remove the lady of the House and draw Lazyn in. Horace had noted her behavior too. Leaning in, he whispered for Jaime’s ear alone.

“She asked for my help. Your sister plays dangerous games. She thinks to encourage rebellion against Daenerys’ men. She thinks it will draw the dragon queen east and into death. That’s how she plans to retake her throne.”

_ Of course she does. Anything to get her crown back. She’d even bed Lazyn if it meant her bloody throne. _

“You’d be a fool to listen to her.” Jaime spoke the words quietly, but there was enough warning in his tone to get the point across.

Horace snorted and went back to his tasks. “I’m not the one who took her orders for years.”

Jaime’s head snapped up to meet Horace’s knowing stare. For a moment, the man’s unimpressed stare reminded Jaime of Addam’s disapproving looks over the years. “When your father died, your House died. The Reynes got their wish in the end.”

Horace looked down at his bucket before picking it up and walking away. For as much as Horace’s comment angered Jaime, he could not refute it. After Tywin died, Cersei grew more power-hungry, Tyrion fled to the enemy, and Jaime took on a zombie-like state befitting the Mountain. 

The rest of the day passed quickly enough. Days began to blend together as they neared the end of the week. As they sat crammed together at dinner, Addam caught Jaime’s eye. With a subtle nod, he flashed something in his hand which produced a smile from Jaime. 

The estate that Addam served at grew wheat and mined copper. There was far less shit to shovel, but more time spent in the fields. When not sweating under the sun’s rays, Addam and the rest of their group washed linens and packed fabrics to be sold in the market. Their master had a penchant for fine linens, and an abundance of materials were scattered throughout the estate. It was a piece of fabric that Jaime needed, and a piece of fabric now available.

When their group left the hall following supper, Jaime walked slowly at Brienne’s side. The babe was troubling her more than usual that day. Brienne’s back and ankles were sore, and her eyes heavy with fatigue.

Jaime was uncertain if it was on account of Brienne’s own size that her swell appeared small, or merely a reflection of poor nutrition, but Brienne did not look past eight moons. A slight worry that poor nutrition was impacting their babe gnawed at Jaime. 

“Are you hungry? I saved my roll for you.” Jaime studied Brienne’s face as he spoke.

“No. I’m just tired. Tired and sore.” 

Jaime hummed at her side and glanced down the corridor. “If we were still in Westeros, would you wish to be on Tarth or the Rock? Anyplace but the North, I hope.” 

Brienne rolled her eyes in reply. “With Daenerys on the throne, I would have stayed to protect Lady Sansa.”

“Even if we were wed? You’d punish me so severely?” Jaime raised a brow and laughed, but his nerves got the better of him and the laugh sounded strained.

Brienne huffed and shook her head. “Well we are not wed, and I  _ was  _ a sworn sword. You do recall enjoying your status as an indefinite houseguest with no real responsibility nor contribution, do you not?”

“My responsibility was squiring for you when Podrick failed to do so, though I’m quite glad he didn’t tend to you in the same ways that I did.” Despite his teasing tone, Jaime’s mention of Pod caused Brienne’s face to darken. Her voice was a whisper in reply.

“I hope Pod is alright. I hope Daenerys has not hurt him because of me.”

Jaime reached for Brienne’s hand and rubbed his thumb over her knuckles. “I’m certain he’s fine. He squired for my brother after all, and if there is one thing Tyrion does well, its escape death.”

Brienne pursued her lip at the words and stared straight ahead. Staring at Brienne’s profile, Jaime spoke quietly for her ears only. “If I had asked for your hand, would you have offered it?”

Brienne’s brows furrowed at the question. She rolled the idea around in her head and Jaime watched as her lips slowly parted in reply. “I took moon tea regularly. I neglected to consume it when you left… I’m sorry. I just… it slipped my mind. Everything was such a blur and it happened so fast. My negligence was not intentional. If you didn’t leave, I’m certain that I would not have erred in forgetting it. There wouldn’t have been a need to wed.”

“What? No, Brienne… that’s not what I meant. This was not your fault. I should have  _ thought  _ to spill outside you, but I… I wanted a dream that didn’t seem possible. It wasn’t my intention to get you pregnant and  _ then  _ ask for your hand. I prefer it the other way around. I’d have asked. I wanted to marry you then as I do now. I wanted to share a name and have a babe with you. If you’d have me.”

Brienne looked at Jaime then. Her brows knitted in confusion and she stammered in reply. “I just thought it enough that you would stay.”

Hearing how little Brienne would ask of him hurt more than Jaime expected. She allowed him into her bed and heart, but expected nothing in return. They had called her his whore, but she only smiled at him and ignored the taunts, just as she ignored his taunts in the Riverlands. 

“I wanted to stay and marry you…. and then steal you away from Sansa because I had you first. She is a thief. I don’t recall Lady Catelyn saying that we had to return her home and follow her around all day. Lions don’t do well in the north. We’re made for the sun as you would have seen once you took the Lannister name. Of course, if you had the Lannister name, perhaps it wouldn't be such shit.”

A small smile spread across Brienne’s face in reply. “Well now I’m a Storm and you’re a Hill. I don’t even know what they call bastards in Meereen, but that’s what this babe will be.”

“Daenerys is not my queen. She has no authority to strip me of my name.” They reached the room and Jaime stopped walking; his eyes searching Brienne’s. “Will you marry me?”

Brienne’s brows furrowed at the words. Taking a deep breath, Brienne spoke as though the words mattered little. “If we live and by some miracle find our way home, I would.”

“No, that won’t do. The babe will be here well before all that, and I can’t let our child come into the world as a Hill or a Storm. Marry me now. I want our babe born a Lannister.”

Brienne’s face was the picture of confusion as she glanced around the dark corridor. The guards noted them lingering by the doorway and began to bark orders for them to step inside. “I doubt they’ll take us to a Sept. It isn’t even the religion here.”

Jaime pulled her into the room before the guards could shove them inside. “I don’t need some shit old man in a robe to stand before us. I know the words.”

The other men were huddled by the window and talking as the last rays of daylight trickled into the room. Pointing at Addam, Jaime smiled softly at Brienne, though his voice was teasing. “Addam’s practically a Septon.  _ Very  _ religious and  _ never  _ vulgar.”

At his gesture to Addam, the redheaded knight smiled widely and dangled the torn fabric he had stolen from the master’s estate to act as a ribbon. “Are we doing this? I prefer proper lighting so that I don’t bind the wrong people’s hands. I’d hate to wed Jaime off to Mattix.”

Mattix snorted in reply. “You couldn’t offer me all the gold at the Rock to wake up next to that face every day.”

Brienne laughed lightly at the words. When she looked at Jaime, all he could see was his future. It seemed fitting to Jaime that he would marry the woman he loves in Essos. For most of his life, Jaime had begged his false love for just that. With a small nod, Brienne agreed. Her smile seemed to make the room ten times brighter. “Alright, I’ll marry you now… and I would have then.”

They walked towards the group and Jaime felt weightless. There was no Sept nor Septon; no kin nor feast to follow. None of that mattered to Jaime. He had Brienne and that was all he needed.

Addam raised a brow at Brienne and spoke teasingly. “Last chance… it’s not too late to consider a redhead. We’re a good time, and I hear you almost fell for one, though not as handsome as me.”

While Brienne found Addam far too amusing for Jaime’s taste, he merely presented Addam with his finest Kingslayer smile. Putting up a defensive hand, Addam spoke with false sternness to the other knights. “Now this is going to be a proper fucking ceremony so pay attention. You’re the witnesses to his union.”

Anson’s tone mirrored Addam’s as he stood beside Mattix. “We’ll be certain to write the Citadel after it’s done.”

“Of fuck! The cloak!” Kent sprinted to the back of the room and retrieved the awful, tattered dress that the guards neglected to take away weeks ago when Daario afforded Brienne something proper to fight and live in. Bringing it towards the group, Jaime snorted at what he saw.

Kent grinned and held the fabric up proudly. “I used the grime from the floor to draw a lion on the back.”

It was both the worst and best thing that Jaime had ever seen. The group huddled together and had a good chuckle over it before Kent handed it to Jaime. “Why does it only have one front paw?”

Kent raised a brow as though the answer was obvious. “Am I going to be the one to tell him?”

The Stormlands knights seemed far too amused with Kent’s artistic efforts, but Jaime appreciated the sentiment even if it was complete crap.  _ Idiots. _

Addam straightened to full height and did his best to sound official. “You may now cloak your bride-knight and bring her under your protection… though I’m fairly certain she keeps you alive.”

“This is still better than the North.” At Jaime’s words, Brienne offered a warning glare, but he could see the mirth in her eyes. 

Jaime tried to keep a straight face as he put the dress around Brienne’s shoulders. She was biting back a laugh as well, and while Jaime meant the vows he was about to say with the utmost sincerity, he was thrilled to share a lighthearted moment with Brienne. 

Addam smirked and continued as though he actually believed himself a Septon. “My fellow exiled knights, we stand here in the sight of gods and men to witness the union of man and wife. One flesh, one heart, one soul, now and forever.”

With the fabric in his hand, Addam stepped forward and tied it around the hands of Brienne and Jaime. “Let it be known that Jaime of House Lannister and Brienne of House Tarth are one heart, one flesh, one soul. Cursed be he who would seek to tear them asunder. In the light of our shit window in our prison cell of Meereen, I hereby seal these two souls, binding them as one for eternity.”

Addam tugged the ribbon off their hands and nodded at the pair before him. “You know the words.”

Speaking in unison, Jaime and Brienne made their vows together. “Father, Smith, Warrior, Maiden, Crone, Stranger…”

“I am hers and she is mine.”

“I am his and he is mine.”

“From this day, until the end of my days.” They smiled widely in conclusion.

With a smile he couldn’t wipe from his face if he tried, Jaime spoke the last line of the ceremony. “With this kiss, I pledge my love.”

Jaime reached out with his arms to pull Brienne close. When their lips met, he could hear the knights wolf-whistling and clapping, but all that mattered was Brienne. She smiled into his kiss and Jaime prayed to the gods that they would have many more years of warm embraces and loving kisses to come. 

When Jaime released his hold on Brienne, Addam clapped loudly. “Alright, now have a little respect for the rest of us and skip the bedding tonight. I think we can all confidently confirm you consummated it.”

Jaime rolled his eyes, but when he glanced at Addam he could do little more than offer his thanks. It was hardly the first time he had thanked Addam since they arrived, and Jaime feared it might not be the last. 

With a warm hand to Jaime’s shoulder, Addam nodded in understanding. The men teased a while longer about the shit post-wedding feast compared to other Lannister events, but the men seemed genuinely happy to offer Brienne and Jaime some light in what felt an eternal darkness. 


	16. The Agony of Loss

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Brienne gives birth in exile.

Brienne awoke with a start as a sharp pain radiated around her middle and towards her back. At her sudden movement, Jaime sat upright and reached for her in the dark. “Brienne? What’s wrong?”

His mind was in a fog as he tried to rub the sleep from his eyes.  _ What is going on? What hour is it? _

The room was still dark and the men snored at his back. Squinting into the darkness, Jaime felt Brienne’s shoulder stiffen beneath his palm.

“It hurts. I think the babe is coming.” Brienne’s words were a whisper. She clutched at her swell and moaned in pain.

Panic coursed through Jaime as he considered what to do. Brienne was past eight moons, but she had never been seen by a maester. All they had to go by was her last moonblood, but the timeline was finite. They laid together for one moon turn, and it meant the babe could come any day now. 

“I’ll alert the guards. They’ll bring the healer or a midwife.” Jaime began to stand, but Brienne shook her head. 

Raw fear consumed her voice when she spoke. “No! Please. They’ll take the babe. I want to hold the babe first.”

Jaime immediately understood Brienne’s plight. The thought of not having someone to help Brienne frightened him, but Jaime had seen a birth before. He had been there when Cersei’s time came and Robert was off hunting. 

Kneeling at Brienne’s side, Jaime wrapped his arms around her. “Alright. I’ll be here with you. It will be fine.”

As Jaime’s eyes adjusted to the darkness, he glanced around the room. “We could use that awful dress-cloak to cover you when the time comes and your breeches can’t stay on.”

Brienne sagged against Jaime and clutched at his arms. The atmosphere shifted around them as the enormity of the situation settled over them.

For hours, Brienne endured waves of pain. She moaned and sobbed, but did her best to muffle the cries escaping her mouth. Jaime cradled her in his arms and positioned Brienne between his legs. Together, they made it through much of the night as Brienne’s body prepared to birth their babe. 

The waves of pain crashing into Brienne’s body increased in both frequency and duration as the hours went by. When the pain became so unbearable that she could scarcely muffle the sounds, they put Jaime’s golden hand to good use. Brienne bit down on the useless brick as her body twisted and bent to try and find any position to escape the pain.

Whispering into her ear, Jaime reminded Brienne of all they would teach their child when they found their way home. “We’ll teach our cub the sword, bow, morningstar, and dagger. We can go sailing and swimming. We can even go to the bloody North if you want to see those obnoxious Starks.”

Brienen whimpered and laughed as Jaime tried to keep her spirits up. With every hour that passed, Jaime felt panic set in. They were supposed to serve that day, and the following, they would fight. 

_ Gods. She won’t be able to fight. Surely, they won’t make her fight. They gave Cersei a fortnight to recover.  _

It had been the only time that Jaime considered Daario and his men halfway decent. A fortnight of rest after birthing a babe was not enough, but it was better than nothing. They had sent the healer to Cersei daily, and the guards brought her food. Jaime prayed to the gods that Brienne would be afforded similar care. Somehow, he feared she wouldn’t be. 

Nothing came easy to Brienne in exile. Cersei was given medicine while Brienne nearly died going without. Cersei was afforded a bucket while Brienne was afforded a sword. 

An incredible wave of pain gripped Brienne and her face contorted in the most agonizing way. Jaime wanted to scream and beg for aid, but Brienne needed to hold their cub and so did he. If they could have one moment, one embrace, it might make the entire ordeal more bearable. It might give Brienne the necessary strength to fight with everything she had in the matches to come until their rescue. 

Mattix’s voice called out from the other side of the room. “What’s going on?”

Jaime glanced left and saw the Stormlands knight sitting upright with a confused expression on his face. It was still dark out, but Jaime considered that even Brienne’s muffled cries were likely enough to rouse the man. Most knights slept lightly in stressful situations, and exile certainly qualified.

“The babe is coming.” At Jaime’s words, Mattix leapt to his feet and ran for the door. 

“I’ll get the healer!”

“No!” Jaime and Brienne answered in unison. At their reply, Mattix stopped and stared at them wide-eyed. 

He took cautious steps forward and crouched before Brienne. “You’ll need aid.”

In the darkness, Jaime could just make out the knight’s face. When he took in their frightened expressions, his body sagged. He didn’t need to hear their answer to understand what they were doing. With a slow nod, Mattix moved towards the door and sat against it.

“I’ll tell you if I hear anyone. You’ll need to keep quiet.”

Another hour passed before Mattix had Addam and Anson flanking him. The men stared in disbelief as Brienne endured never-ending waves of pain. Her palms pressed hard into Jaime’s thighs and her nails dug into his flesh. The heat and sweat from her hands seeped through his breeches and warmed his skin. Brienne’s damp, matted hair pressed firm against Jaime’s chest as he shushed and consoled her throughout the pains. 

The sky was becoming their enemy. Jaime kept glancing towards the window and willing away dawn. It seemed laughable to him now. Not even a year ago, he prayed for dawn against the dead. He had called out to any god that would listen and begged for mercy. Begged for the dead to fall and stop rising. 

Now, Jaime cursed the dawn. He stared at the fading stars and moon and cursed the sun; the very thing that Brienne was to him. If he could will away the light just a while longer, Jaime would give away his other hand. 

Soon, five men stood against the door. Brienne bit down on Jaime’s golden hand and writhed in agony as she sat between his legs and enveloped by his arms. Jaime wanted to take away the pain, but all he could do was watch. Still, the men stood at the door and listened. Waited. 

Tears streamed down Brienne’s face. She drew her legs up as though attempting to flee the pain. Jaime dropped his head to press his lips to her temple. “You’re doing great. It’s alright.” 

Except that it wasn’t alright. Jaime saw the floor growing lighter as dawn kissed the stonework. The men’s faces were easier to read as they sat pressed against the door. Jaime glanced towards the window. The sun was not up, but the sky was beginning to glow. The stars and moon had faded. 

They had gone to sleep early the night before. Everyone was tired from a hard day at the estates, and the sun had only just set when they set out their bedrolls and fell asleep. Jaime knew they hadn’t been asleep for long when Brienne woke him up. She had been in labor for at least seven hours, most likely longer.

It was a race against time, and Jaime knew they weren’t likely to win. Unless the babe was born within the next hour, the guards would enter the room and there was little to be done about it. Another pain gripped Brienne and her jaw clamped down on the metal of Jaime’s false hand. He considered it was the only time he genuinely appreciated the ridiculous thing. 

Memories of Cersei screaming through the Red Keep filled Jaime’s mind. The sound of his own mother’s cries as she birthed Tyrion never faded with time. Seeing how hard Brienne fought to swallow her cries while simultaneously enduring an unrelenting pain amazed Jaime. 

More tears spilled from Brienne’s eyes as waves of pain rolled from one to the next as a stormy sea might. Fighting his own tears, Jaime continued to offer encouragement as their heads pressed together. “You’re the strongest person I know. Our cub will be unstoppable.”

Brienne’s body began to shake violently from the pain. She reached up and grabbed at Jaime’s shoulders. “It hurts, Jaime. Please.”

The desperation in her voice cut straight through Jaime’s chest. Brienne’s entire body was vibrating in Jaime’s arms and her hands clawed at his back and shoulders. Her body was damp with sweat from hours of agony. The Warrior and the Mother had taken over Brienne’s body as she fought to bring their babe into the world without a single scream. 

“I need to push.” It was both a statement and a plea. Jaime glanced around the room for the awful dress they used only two days prior. 

Addam leapt to his feet. “What does she need.”

“The dress. I have to get her breeches off her.” Jaime inclined his head towards the crumpled fabric in the corner of the room. 

Moving forward quickly, Addam brought over the dress and placed it over Brienne’s lower half. Jaime mused that such an awful fabric would be used for the two most important moments in their lives. Their wedding and the birth of their babe.

_ Our first babe. I’ll not let us die. This won’t be our last child.  _

Jaime and Addam helped Brienne slide down her breeches as the dress served to afford her modesty. 

“Quiet. Footsteps.” Anson called out from the doorway; his eyes wide with worry. 

Jaime wrapped his arms around Brienne and she turned her head into his chest. She clamped down hard on his false hand as another wave of pain coursed through her. The timing couldn’t have been worse as Jaime knew she needed to push. 

Mattix crawled forward from the door. “Two guards. They’re talking just outside.”

_ Fucking hells.  _

Looking down at Brienne, Jaime swallowed his tears as she shook her head. The pain in her eyes was unbearable to see. “Go on. Push. Don’t fight it.”

Brienne’s eyes squeezed shut and Jaime felt her body tense. Her legs pulled closer to her body and Jaime struggled to keep Brienne still and quiet. Mattix’s hand flew to Brienne’s mouth to further muffle the cries.

Jaime felt Brienne’s body relax in his arms as the pain passed. Their eyes met and he tried to convey all the love he felt for her with just one look. He whispered reassuringly. “You’re doing perfect. Just a bit more.”

In truth, Jaime had no idea how much more. He needed Brienne to feel only hope; not fear as he felt. 

Glancing towards the door, Jaime watched as Anson and Axell pressed their ears close. Their faces were the picture of concentration as they listened for signs of movement from the guards standing outside. 

Another wave of pain gripped Brienne as she clawed and writhed in Jaime’s arm. Her body tensed once more and she pushed with everything she had.  _ Please. Please be close.  _

Anson’s eyes went wide and he shook his head. “They’re coming.” 

Brienne’s eyes went wide and she started to shake her head. “No. Please. Jaime, please.”

Mattix jumped to his feet and together, the five men stood defiantly before Jaime and Brienne. Looking into Brienne’s eyes, Jaime implored her. “Push, Brienne. Push with everything you have.”

The men acted as a shield before them. Jaime looked frantically towards the window and saw the sun rising.  _ No. Not yet. Please.  _

As the door slowly opened, Jaime felt Brienne push again. Her body curled in on itself as a wave of pain spread through her body once more. Jaime was torn between staring at Brienne and watching the door. When the guard entered and saw the men, he tried to call out, but the men held him against the wall and covered his mouth. As the guard struggled, they wrestled the man to the ground and pinned him down. Axell shut the door and glanced at Brienne in a panic. “Come on, Ser! 

Addam covered the guard’s mouth as Kent removed the man’s weapons. The sword and dagger scattered across the room as Addam, Kent, and Mattix piled on top of the guard. The sight of the men struggling to subdue the guard and afford them extra moments broke Jaime’s heart. Defying the guards could be a death sentence, but it gave Brienne time. 

Glancing back down at her, Jaime saw the Mother’s determination on Brienne’s face. She gritted her teeth and pushed once more. The labor pains were coming one after another. 

Axell’s voice called back in a panic. “More coming. Too many now.”

Jaime looked back down at Brienne’s face. She began to sob louder and shake her head. “I can’t. Jaime, it hurts. I can’t do it.”

“You’re Brienne of Tarth. You beat the Hound. You beat death. You  _ almost  _ beat me on the bridge.” Jaime teased as his own tears began to fall. “You’re the first female knight and Ser Duncan’s great-granddaughter. You can do this. It’s alright to scream, Brienne. You’re a lion now. You’re meant to roar.”

Another wave of pain gripped Brienne’s body. She couldn’t hold back any longer as her entire body began to bear down. She pushed with everything she had and let out a Mother’s roar that made Cersei’s seem like a mewl. 

It mattered little. The guards were already through the door and shoving back the men. Jumping off the pinned guard, all five men stood before the guards and tried to keep them back. Chaos erupted in the room as weapons were drawn and angry commands echoed off the walls. There were too many guards to keep away, and two men broke through. The guards rushed at Jaime and reached out angrily. 

Jaime clung tightly to Brienne and screamed as she pushed until there was no air left in her lungs. “Please! No! Just wait!”

Jaime’s arms were wrapped possessively around Brienne as the men tried to tug him away. Screaming with everything he had, Jaime struggled to keep his arms around Brienne. Her hands pulled hard on his tunic and neck. She was gasping for air and trying to push once more, but Jaime was falling away from her. Then everything went black.

When Jaime came to, all he could taste was blood. His head was pounding and his vision blurred. Distantly, he heard a voice. Horace.

“Ser Jaime. Ser Jaime, wake up.”

Jaime felt his body moving, or rather, he was in something that was moving. Shaking his head from side to side, Jaime realized he couldn’t open one eye. Feeling his head, Jaime felt a lump at his temple and some swelling near the eye. 

As vision returned in his right eye, Jaime looked up into the face of Horace. “You need to wake up. We’re almost at the estate.”

“Brienne.”

Horace shrugged. HIs expression was one of sympathy. “I don’t know. She wasn’t at the morning meal.”

Glancing around, Jaime could see that he had been thrown onto the floor of the carriage. His head turned in both directions, and he saw the disinterested eyes of Cersei staring into the distance. 

Sitting upright, Jaime rubbed his head. The front of his shirt had blood all over it, but he was uncertain if it was his, Brienne’s, or someone else’s. Panic spread through Jaime’s body as he glanced between Horace and Cersei.

“What happened? The babe? Brienne? The others?”

Cersei only glanced away at Jaime’s desperate words. With a shake of his head, Horace offered what little he knew. “The other knights were whipped and sent to the estates they serve. I’ve not seen Ser Brienne, nor have I heard about the babe.”

Jaime felt his breathing begin to labor and panic set in. He needed to get back to Brienne. Lunging towards the back of the carriage, Horace grabbed his arm. “Don’t! If she’s alive back there, you’ll do her no good dead!”

Jaime slammed his hand into the side of the carriage and cursed. Endless worries swirled in his mind for Brienne and their babe.  _ Is she alive? Is the babe alive? Did Brienne get to hold our cub? Is she being treated? Is she being fed or cared for? _

Considering Horace’s words about the men’s punishment, Jaime wanted to weep. Of those remaining, all but Axell had volunteered for exile and by consequence, this inhumane torture. One man, Herbert, had already lost his life for Jaime’s love. One life and possibly more to come because of Jaime’s mistakes. 

Sliding from the bench to the floor of the cart once more, Jaime buried his face in his arms and wept. He didn’t care what torture they put him through at Lazyn’s estate. He only wanted to get back to Daario’s holding; back to Brienne. 

“Stop it!” Cersei snarled from her seat. At the words, Jaime’s head lifted slowly to meet her reprimanding eyes. “You’re a Lannister. Stop being so weak! Father would be disgusted with you.” 

It was the first time that Cersei no longer felt like his twin. His twin; the girl he grew up with. The girl he used to laugh and play with him at the Rock when they were still innocent. His twin who comforted him when Tywin deemed Jaime too stupid and too disappointing. His twin who didn’t hate him for caring. 

Whatever Cersei became was no longer that girl. During their exile, Jaime had cared for Cersei as he always should have; as a sister. Now Jaime didn’t feel as though he knew the woman staring back at him.

“Father may be disgusted by me, but not as much as mother would despise you.”

Cersei’s eyes went wide and her body shook with rage. She began to raise her hand, but Jaime’s tone was deadly. “If you touch me or Brienne, I swear to the gods that I will squeeze the life from your worthless body.”

The threat resonated with Cersei and she sat back in her seat, but her eyes never left Jaime. Serving at Lazyn’s estate had never seemed more tortuous to Jaime than that day. On more than one occasion, a guard shoved Jaime forward as he stood numbly. His mind could focus on little more than Brienne. 

When the day ended and the carriage returned to the holding, Jaime rushed inside. He could hear the guards screaming and chasing him as Jaime’s feet carried him towards the assigned room. Horace had said that Cersei was kept in their room after birthing the babe, so Jaime assumed the same for Brienne. 

Rounding a corner and sprinting towards the room, Jaime watched as Daario and the healer left the assigned room. He shoved past both men and called out. “Brienne!” 

When he entered the room, Jaime saw Brienne laying on her side and crying. Jaime scooped her into his arms and held her close. She was in the same set of clothing from the day prior and the floor was covered in blood and fluid from the babe’s birth. 

“Are you alright?” Jaime had many questions, but he concentrated on the most important. 

Nodding in reply, Brienne sobbed into his neck. “They didn’t let me hold him.”

_ Him. A boy. We have a son. _

“Is he well?”

Again, Brienne nodded into his neck. “He had a strong cry.”

Neither spoke for a moment before Brienne’s voice reached Jaime’s ears. “I want to go home.” 


	17. The Planning of Sieges

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Tyrion has a plan in Westeros, and makes a desperate plea.

“Harren Lannister. That’s what they named your grandson.” Bran’s voice sounded distant as he spoke. It seemed to Tyrion that he was never fully present when in a room. His mind was always searching for answers and information. 

In a small room in Bronn’s establishment, Tyrion sighed heavily and glanced at Selwyn. The older lord and Sansa arrived in the city two days prior. Sansa arrived under the guise of discussing matters in the North. Selwyn arrived to deliver the promised archers from Tarth’s own military. 

Daenerys worried that her army was not sufficiently sized for defense from unseen threats. The Gold Cloaks had been heavily comprised of men from the West and the Reach; a fact which did little to settle Daenerys’ growing paranoia. Of course, Selwyn offered aid in the form of Tarth’s finest archers.

_ ‘Your Grace, any threat to your crown will have no option but to lay siege outside the city walls. That is what happened to your father before the Kingslayer killed him. You are the last dragon, so you needn’t worry about an attack from the sky. My archers are the best in the kingdoms, and they can guard your battlements while the Dothraki and Unsullied protect against any ground threat.’ _

The queen had agreed, seemingly unaware that it was not threats  _ against  _ the Unsullied, Dothraki, and Daenerys that his archers would take aim at. Tyrion watched as Selwyn sat in his chair and sighed heavily. “Harren? Harren Lannister? The only thing stranger than the first name, is the last name. Has she taken a blow to the head? She’s an unwed Tarth who thinks her status is that of a Storm.”

A small smile tugged at Bran’s lips. “They married one another. Addam made for an interesting Septon, but they had four witnesses within their prison cell. As to the first name, I don’t imagine they mean to honor Harren the Black, but rather his castle where Ser Jaime fell in love with your daughter.”

Tyrion smirked to himself.  _ Typical Jaime.  _

Only moments earlier, Bran had updated them on all that was happening in Meereen. Tyrion knew they needed to act soon or there would be no one left to save. 

Glancing at Bran, Tyrion asked the question that worried him most. “The last orders for Zharin. Were they received?”

Bran nodded slowly. “He has finally sourced a bear.” 

“A what!?” Selwyn narrowed his eyes at Bran. Part of Tyrion worried that sharing the news with Selwyn would see the man swimming to Meereen.

At Tyrion’s side, Sansa leaned forward; her eyes filled with horror and darted between Tyrion and Bran. “Do not tell me that Daenerys means to reenact Harrenhal.”

With a single nod, Bran confirmed as much. Both Selwyn and Sansa stiffened. Swallowing thickly, Sansa looked at Tyrion and shook her head. “I should have chained your brother to the bloody Keep!”

Loathe as Tyrion was to admit it, he concurred. Jaime’s actions had placed him and Brienne at risk. By the mercy of the gods, their babe was safe and on the way to Westeros with a wet nurse, but it shouldn’t have come to that. 

“I know that my brother committed a most egregious error, but all we can do now is find a solution. Lord Selwyn, how many have you assembled within the Stormlands.”

The older lord huffed in annoyance, but swallowed down his rage before replying. “All have answered my call, but we are a kingdom depleted after years of war. 4,000 men in fighting condition.”

Sansa sighed from beside Selwyn. “The Riverlands and the Vale have answered. 12,000 between them. As to the North, Jon won’t move against Daenerys, but Tormund will. He has committed the Free Folk, though they only have 2,000 remaining.”

Nodding his head slowly, Tyrion considered the numbers. “That’s better than nothing. Not as many as Daenerys has left, but we have yet to include the West. I’ve instructed my aunt to call the banners. Given their peaceful surrender at the siege, we have 20,000. The numbers are on our side. Bran, what of my idea?”

When poisoning was no longer an option, Tyrion suggested that Bran try to warg into Drogon. Bran was uncertain about being able to control the dragon as it was well-bonded with Daenerys. Further, it was a highly intelligent creature. Bran had little success with people, though he could warg into simpletones such as Hodor. 

“I’ve been attempting over the past weeks. I was having little luck at first, but I’ve made substantial progress. I think your plan will work. As we know, I’ve also had success in exposing her madness to Grey Worm and the other officers. They are  _ uncertain _ . Their support for her wavers.”

Tyrion exhaled forcefully and nodded. When questioning eyes from Selwyn and Sansa landed on him, Tyrion shared his idea. “We should present a siege formation with the West, Vale, Free Folk, and Riverlands. That will draw out the Unsullied and Dothraki from the castle. Of course, the Tarth archers know their true target. Bran will attempt to control Drogon from the sky and burn Daenerys’ men  _ if  _ they move against us. Ideally, it won’t come to that. Of course, Daenerys will not allow herself to go unguarded. Lord Selwyn will lead a group through the tunnels at the base of Aegon’s Hill. It’s how my brother and sister escaped during the siege. I would say 50 men should suffice. Without the threat of scorpions, I doubt Daenerys will fly into battle. She grows increasingly paranoid and rarely leaves the Keep.”

Selwyn sighed and nodded agreement. “How soon? Every day that we don't take action is a day that my daughter could die across the Narrow Sea.”

Of course, Tyrion had considered that. “This is where things might get a bit complicated. Between our armies, we will have them poised to attack in a fortnight. The challenge is that we need Jon here. We need him to bond with Drogon when Daenerys dies. I worry at what Drogon might do when he realizes that Daenerys is dead. Second, crossing the Narrow Sea by boat with an army to save everyone could take up to three weeks. If Jon has Drogon, he can fly there and remove the remaining threat.”

Selwyn groaned in irritation. “How will you get him here!? You just said that he won’t move against her.”

Tyrion’s eyes darted to Sansa and he cast an apologetic smile at her. “That is where it gets complicated. We need to lie to Jon. I sent a royal summons last week indicating that Sansa was being held for suspected treason, and he was to journey alone as Daenerys feared that Sansa swayed the Northmen to her cause. I claimed that if she sees an army approach, she will take drastic action. Bran confirmed that Jon received the missive and is making his way south. It will take Jon just over a fortnight to get here as he’s riding  _ quite  _ fast. The Free Folk are sailing from Eastwatch and should arrive at Tarth in a fortnight. They will join the Stormlands outside the gates. I’ve alerted all the forces to apprehend Jon on approach and explain the situation. I know this will hurt him, but we have no other way.”

Considering the information, Sansa and Selwyn glanced at once another. Subtle nods were exchanged between them before Selwyn spoke questioningly. “Are you certain that Daenerys will turn over the babe?”

Tyrion shook his head in refute. “I’ll not take the chance. Per Daenerys’ orders, Davos has been ordered to search every ship that arrives at port. He will take a group of trusted guards when the time comes to search the ship from Meereen. He’ll sail the babe to Tarth.” Tyrion hesitated for a moment; his eyes a plea to Selwyn. “I’ve asked him to take Cesei’s babe too. It won’t be safe for the babe and…”

Selwyn put up a hand to halt Tyrion’s plea. “Of course. We don’t hold children accountable for the sins of their parents. Hopefully the babe inherits little more than looks from your sister and Euron.”

“Thank you.” Tyrion’s lips pressed into a tight line. He glanced around the room before speaking to Bran.

“What of Daario? Any further developments there?” 

A week prior, Bran and Tyrion had discussed the sellsword who Daenerys left behind to lead in her absence. Before Bran could reply, Sansa spoke questioningly. “Daario? What are you two considering?”

As often happened when detailing events from another time and place, Bran’s voice grew distant. “He’s questioning her commands. His resolve to carry out her will without question is weakening. While he loves Daenerys and is loyal to her, he sees something in Jaime and Brienne that makes him take pause; particularly Brienne. I think it started as respect for their skill in the fighting pits. He was once a fighter in the pits, and he appreciates their swordsmanship and resolve. There is something else though. Brienne is an innocent, and I think he recognizes it. He forced the healer to save her and he afforded her more appropriate clothing. In the last match where Zharin made Brienne fight while sick with fever, Daario quarreled with the man. He knows it’s wrong, but he can’t understand why Daenerys has Brienne there. He is starting to mistrust the information that Daenerys has sent.”

Tyrion watched as Selwyn and Sansa digested the information. He knew that Jaime and Brienne would need aid sooner than Jon could get to them. “Do you think the risk is small enough now?”

As Tyrion asked the question, Bran’s eyes narrowed slightly. “It should be. The true test will be how he reacts at the next match.”

“And your host’s body… could you make it all the way to Meereen?” 

Tyrion had expressed a desire to write a letter to Daario. He trusted the words only in Bran’s care, but it was an incredible distance for a raven. Most missives to Meereen passed by way of boat. It took longer to reach Slaver’s Bay, and time was not on their side. 

“I’ll get it to him. It might take a couple of days using various hosts, but I can do it. I’ll just need to miss a small council. Tell her that I’m monitoring things in Meereen. She’ll need to think as much so she doesn't question why I missed the threat marching against her. We can blame your sister’s  _ activities _ .” 

Tyrion snorted at the words. Of course, Cersei was scheming on her own. It was not unlike Cersei to look for a way out and back into power, but it had surprised Tyrion to hear how at odds his siblings were. Cersei was causing a stir in Lazyn’s estate. If she got her way, the Sons of the Harpy might beat Jon to defeating Daenerys’ forces. The question would be what the Sons of the Harpy did with the Westerosi.

When they finished sorting through details in preparation for the siege to come, Tyrion alerted Bronn who carried Bran back into the Keep through the tunnels. Under the cover of night, Selwyn returned to his ship under Davos’ care; the archers from Tarth were now stationed throughout the city. Sansa returned with Tyrion to the Keep using the same passageway as Bronn and Bran.

They walked in companionable silence most of the way, but soon Tyrion felt Sansa’s appraising eyes on him. “Do you think your brother can find a way to keep her safe a while longer? I don’t know how they’ll survive a bear.”

“Where it concerns love, I would bet my life on Jaime’s defense of it. If he can’t keep her safe, no one can.”

At the words, Sansa sighed. “I should have been kinder at Winterfell. I was so angry at everything. At Daenerys. At Cersei. At my father’s secret about Jon. I took it out on Jaime, and by consequence, Brienne.”

Tyrion shrugged as they walked. In truth, he wasn’t certain that Sansa’s words were the only thing that urged Jaime south. “My brother’s self-loathing is deeper than the Narrow Sea. I only hope he doesn’t do anything too foolish and self-sacrificing. I’ve worried at times… ever since I saw him charge that dragon. His own life seems to matter little. He doesn’t fear death, only the death of those he loves.”

Sansa sighed at the words. “I can’t believe I didn’t see it at Winterfell. He seemed indifferent at his trial and I thought it arrogance, but when Brienne stood before him, his entire demeanor changed. Then he followed her for weeks on end. My shadow had a shadow.”

A small laugh rumbled in Tyrion’s chest. “I never thought he’d be free of Cersei. I should have known better, but I was blind for the past years. My head was elsewhere and I missed the most obvious things. I shouldn’t have let him into this city. I knew something was off, but I made some very poor assumptions.”

“We’ll get them back. We have to.” After Sansa’s declaration, they walked the rest of the way in silence. When Tyrion returned to his room, he took out a parchment and quill. 

_ Daario, _

_ Hello, my friend. I wish that I was able to write you under better circumstances. There are things I wish to share that may surprise you. Let me start by saying that my sister, Cersei, is not to be trusted. Keep a close eye on her. I can tell you that she deserves every bit of her exile and she means to gain power through Lazyn. Be careful.  _

_ Since arriving in Westeros, I have suffered some gross miscalculations. Despite wanting to reclaim her throne upon arrival, Daenerys conferred with my sister’s rebelling kingdoms and came to learn of a greater threat. We lost Viserion in an effort to recover Jorah and our allies from that threat. I fear you’ll never believe what I tell you, but death came for us all.  _

_ We had little option but to ally with my sister and her forces. An army of dead things twice in size to our own moved against us. They cared little for squabbling between Houses and sovereigns. My sister committed to aiding our cause, but she lied. She feigned support to her rebelling kingdoms and Daenerys. Only my brother rode north to honor the pledge. Daenerys wished to kill him despite it as she harbored resentment over her father’s death.  _

_ What I did not know when I abandoned my House, was the truth of why my brother killed Aerys. The entire realm spits the name at him; Kingslayer. He killed the mad king when Aerys ordered wildfire ignited throughout the city to kill all of its occupants; innocent men, women, and children. Half a million people. I used wildfire to win a battle against a threat to the crown years ago. My sister used wildfire to blow up a portion of the city to avoid her own trial. My brother tried to prevent what my sister and I used for personal gain. _

_ Daenerys held a mock trial upon Jaime’s arrival, and when she refused to hear my words, only Brienne came to his defense. Since then, Daenerys has resented Brienne for defending him. _

_ Jorah died bravely in the battle against the dead. When we prevailed, Daenerys immediately turned the armies south to face my sister. The men were weary, but they did as she demanded.  _

_ Rhaegal was killed by my sister's army, and Missandei was captured. After losing two dragons, Jorah, and Missandei, I watched Daenerys slip into madness. She killed Varys for sharing information that I gave. It was my fault, and I regret it every day.  _

_ Through it all, my brother stayed in the North with Brienne. He didn’t want to aid Cersei’s cause, but when word reached him that Cersei had Missandei, my brother knew that Daenerys would go mad if Cersei killed her. He left Brienne to join my sister in assumed death. He saved the city by ringing the bells in surrender. You might have noticed by now, but my brother does not fear death. He only fears those he loves facing it.  _

_ My brother returned south knowing he would die. He unknowingly left Brienne pregnant in the North. Daenerys hates Brienne for loving my brother. She is obsessed with a prophecy that claims she will be betrayed ‘once for blood, once for gold, and once for love’. She thinks that Brienne would kill her to save her love, Jaime.  _

_ Brienne is a kind, honorable, selfless woman. She fought alongside Daenerys against the dead. She is heir to her House, yet served as the sworn sword to a young girl whose parents were murdered by my kin. Please, I beg of you. She doesn’t deserve any of it.  _

_ Since taking the throne, Daenerys has burned innocents alive. She fabricates threats at every turn. Even Grey Worm is disturbed by her behavior. Daenerys has turned into her father. You recall Ser Barristan’s tales. This is worse. I’m begging you to stop the madness, Daario. The knights from the Stormlands exiled themselves to protect Brienne, but we know that one, Ser Herbert, is dead. They are good men, just like my brother, and just like you. _

_ Tyrion _

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Bear fight is up next. I’m not certain if I can double post today, but I will try!


	18. The Pit of Despair

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jaime and Brienne face their next challenge in the fighting pit.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Double posting this and the prior chapter (chapter 17 - The Planning of Sieges) Now to the pit of despair - dilly dilly.

The knights among them were beaten and whipped. Swollen eyes and lips covered faces of the most dejected looking knights that Brienne had ever seen. Mattix, Axell, and Kent had taken the worst of it. The men could barely move and the blood on their backs had dried to their tunics, making it unbearable for the men to try and adjust the fabric. 

As punishment for their conduct, the guards refused them supper the night prior. When they broke their fast the next day, those assigned to serving looked at them in horror. Unlike Cersei, Brienne would not be afforded a meal in her room. She was forced to drag herself to the hall with the rest of them. 

As always, Daario’s second in command oversaw the meal. The man unsettled Brienne and seemed the cruelest among the group; his face set into a permanent scowl. Brienne assumed from the guard’s attire that he was a member of the Second Sons. The guard had a long pointed beard that was dyed blue and always twisted into different styles of a braids. He was the same guard that always barked at them to eat in silence, and who oversaw the holding in the mornings while Daario tended to other matters.

Appraising those assembled around the table, Brienne felt an overwhelming emptiness. The physical void in her womb was rivaled only by the void in her heart. When earlier that day the healer entered the room just in time for the babe’s head to push past her entrance, Brienne panicked. All she wanted was one moment. Just a chance to kiss her babe before her arms were forever empty. 

Every part of Brienne’s body hurt. It hurt to walk and to sit. The bleeding was worse than she expected, and Brienne’s breasts were heavy from milk that would never nourish her babe. Her son.

Brienne had not seen the babe when the healer stole away with the crying cub. A guard had pinned down her shoulders as she delivered the babe to ensure she couldn’t reach down and touch her child. It was Addam’s keen eyes that followed the healer’s movements as the guards pinned him to the wall.  _ ‘I hope you all rot in the Seven Hells for this! Let her hold her son!’ _

When Brienne tried to lunge forward, she was greeted with a palm to the face. The guard shoved her head to the side and she watched helplessly as an unconscious Jaime was beaten by two guards. Afterwards, the rest of the men were dragged outside for whippings. The guards dragged Jaime away too, and Brienne feared they might kill him. 

Now as she sat around the table, Brienne noted the satisfied smirk on Cersei’s face. She said nothing, but she didn’t need to.  _ Cersei knows what this emotional and physical pain is like, and she celebrates my torture.  _

As the meal ended, a guard pulled Brienne from the bench like a petulant child deserving of punishment. Brienne prayed they would put her back in the room, but instead, she was dragged towards the carriage. The sinking realization that she would be forced to fight that day set in. As the men observed Brienne thrown into the carriage, they raged and tried to fight back. Brienne wished they would stop. They were already weak and beaten from the day prior. She was petrified that they would be unable to defend themselves that day.

Jaime’s arms wrapped around Brienne as a heavy silence fell over their group on the way to the fighting pit. The men looked dead already, and Brienne felt terribly for it. 

_ I shouldn’t have been selfish in wanting to hold the babe. This wouldn’t have happened to them. _

The stadium was as loud as ever when the carriage pulled up to the arena. Wordlessly, they all walked inside to await the Stranger. Brienne felt as though she was drowning in her own tears. It felt a guarantee that no rescue would come in time. She would die without ever having seen her son.

Jaime’s hand gripped Brienne’s as they walked inside. She felt exhausted and weak from having birthed a babe just a day ago. Her body cried out for reprieve, but not as much as her heart. When Zharin entered the room, he appeared far too pleased at what greeted him. 

“Mattix, Anson, Kent, Axell, and Addam. Follow me.”

Panic set in as Brienne wondered at why she and Jaime were to be left behind. Glancing at Jaime, Brienne noted the confusion on his face. The men seemed unwilling to leave them, but they followed as instructed. Watching the physical effort with which they stood worried Brienne. The likelihood of seven people occupying the carriage on the return to Daario’s holding was as likely as Daario letting them all walk free that day.

When the door shut, Jaime turned Brienne’s head towards him. “We are not dying today. We’re going to make it home. I swear it.”

Brienne wanted to believe him, but she couldn't. She also didn't have the heart to tell him otherwise. With a weak nod, Brienne’s eyes darted away. Jaime’s voice was desperate at her side and his hand pulled her head closer. “Brienne! You need to fight with everything you have. We’ve had worse. Locke. A bear. Dead things. We’ll be alright. Harren is going to be with your father and waiting for us.”

At the mention of Harren, Brienne’s chin trembled and her eyes watered. Jaime began to panic at her reaction and he shook her shoulder with his flesh hand. “No, no, no! Brienne, look at me. Please.”

_ I can’t. I don’t want to see him disappointed when I fail. _

Jaime’s next words brought Brienne back to the Riverlands. “You have to live, Brienne. Live to take revenge. She has our son! You need to keep fighting for him. They stole Harren from us, and we’re going to get him back.”

Brienne looked at Jaime then. She saw the fierce resolve in his eyes, and she knew that he had the right of it. The thought of Harren growing up without either of them caused a swirl of overwhelming emotions to stir deep within. More than Renly, or Catelyn, or Sansa, Brienne could not fail Harren. 

_ I will kill anything they throw at us. They will not have the same mercy that I showed Stannis. _

They sat pressed close together for some time before Zharin returned. Loud shouts echoed off the corridor walls at his back, and Brienne could see a commotion outside. Guards threw Addam, Anson, and Mattix back into the room. They were bloodied and winded, but alive. Their chests heaved with rage, and they tried to block the guards when they entered for Jaime and Brienne. 

Brienne’s eyes were frantic as she appraised the men. When Mattix caught her eye, she saw the sorrow on his face.  _ Axell and Kent are dead.  _

Jaime reached for Brienne’s hand as the guards shoved them violently down the hallway. They were escorted directly past the armory and into the tunnel. Jaime’s head turned frantically and he screamed at Zharin. “Weapons! You have to give us weapons!” 

“You’ll have a weapon Kingslayer. Quiet.”

_ What are they doing with us?  _

The crowd noise was deafening as they were shoved into the pit. Brienne’s eyes darted around the arena in search of their opposition or promised weapons, but she saw nothing. In the royal box, Daario appeared surprised by their presence. His eyes wandered to Zharin questioningly, but he said nothing. When Zharin stepped forward with a wide smile on his face and hands raised, the crowd quieted. He began to speak in the local tongue, but Breinne could not understand the words.

She watched Daario’s eyes widen and his jaw go slack with every word that left Zharin’s mouth. As Zharin always did when he finished announcing the match, he waited for Daario to translate. Brienne stared at Daario despairingly and awaited word of their fate. 

Slowly, Daario stood from his seat. Whatever he heard had troubled him, and he stammered slightly before speaking. He glanced at Jaime and Brienne and spoke just loud enough for their ears. “When not even a father would pay her ransom, an unlovable woman was put into a pit with a bear and wooden sword. Her crippled knight did not save her, but an arrow did. Today, we will see if history repeats itself, or corrects itself.”

Brienne felt the air leave her lungs. This wasn’t a fight. This was an execution.

Two guards stepped forward and dropped wooden swords at their feet. Brienne glanced at Jaime and saw her horrified expression mirrored on his face. Before either could speak, Zharin and the guards fled the pit and a side door opened to reveal a chained bear being pulled inside. The animal was enraged as it growled and swiped at the men holding it’s chains. Blood stained the fur around its nose and mouth. The bear snarled and its sharp teeth were on full display.

Shakily, Brienne reached down and grabbed the useless piece of wood. Her heart began to hammer in her chest as she watched the men flee the pit, leaving them with only an enraged bear. 

Brienne felt her body stumble slightly as she gripped the wooden hilt. Her legs were already weak from giving birth, and Brienne could feel her smallclothes and linens saturated with blood. The healer had crudely shoved linens into her smallclothes with no additional cloth to soak up the blood which Brienne understood would be present for a few weeks.

The animal stalked towards them and Jaime refused to pick up his blade. Tugging her backwards, Jaime positioned himself between her and the bear. “Get behind me!”

“What!? No!” Brienne tried to move to Jaime’s side, but his feet followed and his arm kept her back. 

“When it mauls me, run. Try to get up the side of the stands and run. Better the guards end you than this.” 

Brienne tugged hard on his arm and screamed. “No! Together! You promised.”

Jaime’s features set into a determined line. “I promised no such thing.”

“Our vows! Together. You promised.” Brienne shoved her shoulder into Jaime’s side and stood defiantly beside him. “Pick up the wooden sword. If we can disorient it, we can both try to get out.”

A lie. Brienne knew there was no escape for her. She was weak and slow from birthing Harren. Her sole objective was to afford Jaime a chance at survival.

Jaime cursed in frustration, but he bent down slowly to grab the poor excuse for a weapon. As the bear neared them, Brienne kept her eyes on the beast and spoke to Jaime. “We attack from each side. It won’t know what to do.”

They each walked to opposing sides of the bear, moving slowly to avoid agitating the animal more than it already was. Brienne’s body protested every step. Her arms shook in a mix of fear and weakness. She wondered if the bear would gravitate towards her because of all the dry blood on her clothing and the fresh blood in her smallclothes.

_ Let it come to me. Jaime has a better chance to survive this. He’ll protect Harren. _

The bear’s paw swiped angrily towards Jaime, and Brienne smashed it on the back with her wooden sword. A fierce growl rang out as the bear turned towards her and swiped rapidly. The bear tried to ram into her, but Jaime hit its hind leg hard with the wooden sword. Moving backwards on her heels, Brienne’s eyes went wide when the bear charged her and ignored Jaime’s assault. 

Jaime pursued the bear and continued to smash his wooden sword into its back and legs. He screamed at the bear to get its attention. The animal growled loudly once more and spun around. His paw swiped hard and knocked the wooden sword from Jaime’s hands.

With the animal’s attention on Jaime, Brienne tried to maintain the game by smashing her wooden sword onto its back. The animal only grew more frustrated until it knocked Jaime to the ground. Before its jaws could close around Jaime’s throat, Jaime lifted his false hand and let the animal bite down on the useless metal. 

Fear tore through Brienne as she began smashing her sword into the bear’s head. She would not let the bear harm Jaime, just as she would destroy anyone who tried to harm Harren. With every bit of strength in her body, Brienne screamed and assaulted the bear’s snout. 

The bear cried out in pain and Brienne heard a crunch near its snout on one particularly well-placed strike. When the animal released Jaime’s false hand and lifted onto its legs, Brienne felt like she was in the pit at Harrenhal all over again.

“Kingslayer! Brienne!”

Daario’s voice called out from the stands. A loud thud at their backs caught Brienne’s attention. Glancing behind her, Brienne saw Daario’s arakh and dagger on the ground. Dust wafted into the air where the weapons hit the dirt. 

Scrambling to his feet and rushing towards the weapons, Jaime slid to the ground as the bear charged him. Brienne followed quickly and watched as Jaime grabbed the arakh. The bear moved fast at Jaime’s back and prepared to maul him. As Jaime swung the blade defensively, the edge caught the bear’s head. The bear turned away, but not before it’s paw swiped at Jaime and tore through his arm. 

Jaime cried out in pain, but his distraction had afforded Brienne time to get to the dagger. She grabbed the weapon and buried it into the animal’s back. The assault enraged the bear and its movements became erratic as it lashed out in all directions as though searching for the weapon. Despite the pain, Jaime righted himself and used the arakh to end the bear’s life with a well-placed slice across its neck. 

As the animal stilled and the crowd deflated, both Jaime and Brienne scrambled towards one another. They sank to their knees in a firm embrace and Brienne could feel her entire body shaking in a mix of adrenaline and fear. As Jaime clutched Brienne and held her close, his words sounded as much for himself as they did her. “It’s alright. We’re alright.”

Brienne felt hands tugging her backwards. The guards had come to retrieve them, though it seemed a task they had not expected. As Brienne was pulled away from Jaime, she appraised his right arm. Blood ran down a deep set of gashes from the bear’s paw Their eyes never left one another as the guards unceremoniously dragged them down the tunnel. 

Zharin was cursing and pacing outside when they approached the holding room. A deep satisfaction coursed through Brienne at the sight of his unbridled rage.  _ Good. Let him write to Daenerys of his latest failure.  _

The guards near the door opened it as Jaime and Brienne were thrown inside. Protective hands from the men in the room yanked them backwards as Zharin stormed inside. “You want to defy my orders!? I’ll bring in another bear until the animal does its job.”

Before Zharin could continue, Brienne heard loud voices from outside the room. Daario moved inside with guards at his back. With a hard shove to Zharin’s side, Daario glared at him. “What was that!?”

“Queen Daenerys’ orders! They were to fight with wooden swords and you gave them steel! That is treason!”

“That wasn’t a fight and she wasn’t fit to fight today! You may be in charge of the pit, but I’m in charge of Meereen. If you think to throw any of them in without proper weapons again, I’ll have you put before them. I’ll watch them tear you apart piece by piece.”

At Daario’s words, Zharin’s eyes went wide. “You have no right…”

The man couldn’t finish before Daario’s hand moved rapidly towards the hip of a guard at his back. He unsheathed a blade and spun around quickly, slicing Zharin’s neck and ending the man’s life. 

Without looking away from Zharin’s body, Daario spoke commandingly to one of his men from the Second Sons. “Feed this creature to any other beasts he has in that cage of his. Any orders sent here for the matches are to be directed to me. And get the healer! I want them all treated.”

Daario left the room without another word or glancing back at the fighters. For the first time since they arrived, Brienne began to consider that there might be a way out.


	19. The Seeds of Discord

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The day after the fight with the bear, Jaime and the knights get a surprise.

The day after the fight with the bear, the guards entered the room as they always did. Loud commands and rough hands pushed them to the privies and then the dining hall. Jaime’s arm burned deeply where the bear’s claws cut into his flesh. That they survived was improbable, but it was infection that worried Jaime now. 

When the morning meal ended, Daario entered the room. It was a rare appearance by the man, as the morning routine was often delegated to his senior officer from the Second Sons. He spoke in a foreign tongue and pointed at several among them.

Without a questioning word, the guards removed those who served from the dining hall. Jaime’s brows furrowed in confusion as their group of fighters was left at the table. Glancing at Brienne, Anson, Addam, and Mattix, Jaime saw his own worries mirrored in their expressions. 

_Please don’t tell me they’ll have extra matches today. Is this city’s thirst for blood never sated?_

With Unsullied guards at Daario’s back, he commanded their remaining group to follow him towards the baths. They had not been in the bathhouse since the day they arrived. Uncertainty clouded Jaime’s mind as servants entered the room with fresh clothing. Daario ordered the men into one bath and Brienne into her own. 

Jaime moved into the massive tub and hissed when his arm touched the hot water. Keeping his arm above the surface, Jaime glanced around at their group. The men were provided soap for their body and hair. Their faces were shaved clean by attendants crouching by the tub’s edge. 

Cleaning himself as best he could, Jaime grimaced when he briefly dipped his injured arm underwater to wash away any grime that might lead to infection. The sensation felt like one thousand daggers being thrust into his arm. Jaime bit his lip until he drew blood. When he could no longer tolerate the heat of the bath against the raw wound, Jaime lifted his arm out of the water. 

Glancing across the way, Jaime noted a woman helping Brienne. She spoke the common tongue and tried to direct Brienne to lean back so that her hair could be rinsed out. _Thank the gods they gave her a separate tub and a woman to help her._

When they were all clean, staff handed the men towels, clean breeches, and clean smallclothes. New pairs of boots were provided, but they were instructed to keep their tunics off. Everything was confusing to Jaime as he appraised the staff tending to them. 

Across the bathhouse, Brienne had been helped out and afforded fresh clothing to put on. She was in a pair of better fitted breeches and a tunic; her boots also replaced in favor of something less shabby looking. Once dressed, Brienne was guided over towards the men.

Moments later, a group of men and women entered the room at Daario’s back. They were not soldiers, nor did they appear servants. He gave instruction in an altogether different language, and the group moved towards them. 

As the group approached, Daario addressed their group. “These are healers who will tend your lash marks and injuries from the pit. Brienne, you will be seen in a private room for your injuries and assessment from birthing.”

A woman approached Brienne and smiled at her warmly. Gesturing towards the hallway with a bag in hand, the woman inclined her head at Brienne, indicating that she should follow. Jaime was uncertain what possessed Daario, but he would not question the unexpected treatment and reprieve from serving at the estates. As the rest of the healers approached, Daario left via the hallway he had entered from.

Jaime watched as one of the healers approached to appraise the bear claw marks at his arm. The man rotated Jaime’s arm in various directions and mumbled to himself as he went. 

Producing various items from his bag, the man plastered a thick layer of salve onto Jaime’s wound and bandaged it tightly. The medication caused a burning sensation, but Jaime did little more than clench his jaw and hold his breath until the pain subsided. Then the healer assessed other cuts and scars, ensuring that all were properly treated. Before finishing, the man pointed to Jaime’s false hand. 

“This?” The man’s accent was heavy as he pointed to the decorative brick now freshly marked by the bear’s teeth.

Jaime wasn’t certain how to respond in a way that the man could understand. Taking off the false hand, Jaime showed the maiming. “Old wound.”

The scar tissue was angry and scabbed from the recent battles in the fighting pit. From time to time, Jaime used the false hand as a weapon when his left failed him. In truth, the stump looked far worse after the Long Night, but it still troubled Jaime at night. Brienne always removed it before they slept; both in Winterfell and of late, in Essos. Her words echoed in his mind.

_‘This needs to breathe. You can’t keep that thing on it all day. It will never heal properly.’_

The man applied more salve to the stump before bandaging it. When he was done, a guard came to retrieve Jaime. “You. With me.”

Following the Unsullied down a long hallway, Jaime was ushered into a room. It appeared to be a study, though it lacked books. Daario sat behind a table nearest the window. Opposite him was Brienne. At Jaime’s entry, Daario inclined his hand towards the empty seat at Brienne’s side.

Jaime sat down and appraised the room. It was sparsely decorated. In one corner, stacks of missives were piled high with supplies for reply. Jaime wondered at how word was sent to and from Westeros at such a great distance. Surely ravens did not fly, and it was clear that a gap in communication resulted from the separation by sea. 

Daario appraised Jaime and Brienne. His eyes narrowed slightly as he glanced at Brienne.

“When you arrived, I had wondered at where those scars at your collarbone came from. After yesterday’s match, I can guess the source.” Daario raised a brow at Brienne; his voice was casual as though they were discussing the weather.

Brienne’s eyes darted questioningly to Jaime before settling back on Daario. With a small nod, she confirmed as much. “Yes, it was the first bear fight.”

Daario hummed and considered them both. His eyes moved slowly to Jaime. “I always liked your brother. For a man of his stature, his boldness is the size of a giant.”

Glancing at Brienne, Jaime tried to mask his surprise. _He knows Tyrion…_

“Tell me, why did Tyrion abandon your House?” Daario’s eyes narrowed at Jaime as he spoke. 

Jaime considered whether it was best to lie or be truthful as he sat before a man with the power to kill them. Opting for honesty, Jaime spoke in his preferred form of communication. Sarcasm. “I’m certain you could imagine the awkwardness it would cause had he remained in King’s Landing after killing our father on the privy.” 

A slow smirk spread across Daario’s face and he hummed slightly before tilting his head. “He left out the best detail it would seem. When he arrived here, your brother decided to _assess_ Daenerys before committing to her cause. He wished to determine if she was worthy of his support. At the time, he was a prisoner. Cocky little shit.”

“An affliction of all Lannisters.” Jaime smirked at Brienne as he spoke. The faintest smile tugged at her lips, but her lips remained pressed together.

Daario pursed his lips and nodded; amusement in his eyes. “Does that make you cocky, Ser Brienne? I hear that my holding served as _quite_ the venue for a recent marriage.” 

The use of Brienne’s title from Westeros did not go unnoticed to Jaime. He and Brienne glanced at one another before she replied. “I might fight like a Lannister, but I conduct myself as a Tarth.”

Jaime bit back a laugh at Brienne’s reply. She was a lioness now, but there was no removing the core of who she was. Brienne was quiet, honest, loyal, and stubborn. Arrogance, cockiness, and sarcasm were not her skillset. 

“Yes, well it would seem your goodbrother concurs.” Daario threw a piece of paper across the table to them. Without reading the words, Jaime recognized the handwriting. “After the fighting pit, this arrived last night in the mouth of the strangest looking bird that I’ve ever seen.”

An overwhelming relief flooded Jaime as he realized that Tyrion was still alive. Glancing at the missive, Jaime’s face dropped when he read the words. _Daenerys has become her father. I warned him._

Anger and hurt swirled deep within Jaime. The dragon queen was burning his countrymen out of pure paranoia. Despite his effort, Jaime could not contain the hate in his voice. “It would seem that my brother didn’t _assess_ well-enough while here.”

Brienne’s hand reached for Jaime’s knee to try and calm him. She understood better than anyone how much it bothered Jaime that Daenerys was doing the very thing that he gave up his name to prevent. 

Daario’s face fell at the words. “She wasn’t always as this letter describes.” He glanced away and Jaime saw Daario’s jaw tense as he contemplated something. “When she was here, she wished to free the people; to break the wheel. People followed her out of desire and not by force. Still, there was a loneliness to her that I observed in her eyes. She was young, but… I thought her a good person. _This_ is not the woman I knew...” Daario pointed at the missive. “...and certainly not what she has been ordering here.”

A momentary silence fell over the room before he continued. “I grew up in the fighting pits. It is where I won my freedom and what little wealth I have. My company was hired to defend against Daenerys. If the contents of this letter are true, and if what I’ve observed here is truly a reflection of that madness, I regret my decision as it seems Tyrion regrets his.”

Daario shifted in his chair before standing. He stood at the window and sighed heavily. “I informed the masters that all fighters were wounded by yesterday’s whippings and the fighting pit. That will only buy me time, but it won’t prevent word from getting back to Daenerys of my _lenience_ . Unless we want a dragon upon us, we’ll need a different plan. I am working on some arrangements, but it will take a week. With Zharin’s _unfortunate_ accident at the pit yesterday, I will arrange the next matches and can keep them risk-free enough. You will leave after that.”

Turning to face them, Daario considered them. “What is Cersei planning with Lazyn?”

Part of Jaime feared it was all a ruse to get information from them. He rarely trusted anyone outside of his House. Even then, that trust was built over time. 

Jaime considered the farmer who encountered him and Brienne on the journey towards King’s Landing. He had told Brienne that the man would report them, but she was too trusting. It was that memory that caused Jaime’s hesitation. 

Glancing at Brienne, Jaime considered her. She had taught him much over the years, particularly about trust. Surely Daario would have ways of obtaining information without them alive. He just as easily could have let them die against the bear, and obtained information about Cersei’s plans from someone else. 

Jaime decided to take the risk. With a heavy sigh, he glanced at Daario. Jaime’s tone dripped with disdain as his fingers inched towards Brienne’s. “My sister is cunning, and will always try to obtain power. She thinks to use Lazyn for that. I don’t know what she plans, but she asked me to kill Lazyn’s wife. It’s how she works her _charm_. Something about rebels here in Meereen. Sons of something or other. She thinks Lazyn is connected to them.”

Daario nodded and returned to his seat. “Yes, the Sons of the Harpy. They nearly ended Daenerys’ rule here some years ago. They killed Ser Barristan and many of our men.”

At the words, Jaime flinched. He glanced away and sucked in a sharp breath. He had idolized Barristan as he had Arthur Dayne. While Barristan did little to mask his distaste for Jaime, Jaime never stopped trying to impress the older knight while Barristan was still Lord Commander of the Kingsguard.

Daario noted Jaime’s reaction and raised a brow. “You knew him.”

“We served together. Greatest knight we had.” Jaime’s words were bitter. He despised Joffrey and Cersei for dismissing Barristan. It was one of many things that Jaime came to hate about his family’s actions over the years.

Daario hummed at the words. “He saved Grey Worm’s life; cut down a dozen Sons of the Harpy in the process. He seemed a good man.” Taking a deep breath, Daario changed the subject and spoke gravely. “There are two masters here in Meereen who my men have been following for some time, and Lazyn is one of them.”

With a heavy sigh, Daario ran a hand down his face. When his hand landed on the desk, his fingers tapped against it as he glanced away. “You and your men only need to survive a while longer. Don’t do anything foolish. Tomorrow you return to Lazyn’s estate.”

The words were a dismissal and Jaime stood from his chair. Taking Brienne’s hand, Jaime guided them back towards their room. At his side, Brienne spoke quietly. “Do you think we can trust him?”

“If my brother wrote him, I would say that he is the best chance we have. He could have let us die by now and claimed his reward from Daenerys.”

When they returned to their room, the other men were there and pacing uneasily. Addam visibly relaxed when his eyes landed on them. “Thank the gods. I thought they were cleaning us for some type of glorified execution.”

Shaking his head, Jaime shared what they spoke of with Daario. An excited energy filled the room as the group of knights felt hope dangle before them for the first time since their arrival. Mattix’s expression and words were wistful as he spoke. “I’d give anything to see my kin. Gods they’re useless.”

Anson chuckled and nodded emphatically. “Or the rest of the vassals. Idiots. The lot.”

Leaning against the wall, Addam joined the men in reminiscing. “The camp followers must be wailing without me there. Probably stuck sucking off some of Jaime’s more obnoxious cousins.”

Jaime groaned in distaste. It was one thing that Jaime and Addam never agreed on. Addam was a man who enjoyed physical pleasures more than love. In contrast, Jaime couldn’t fathom a meaningless fuck. 

“I never thought I’d miss Robert, but… I’d take that tradeoff.” Jaime hated the sincerity in his own voice at the words. Robert was a miserable, drunken, abusive man, but he wasn’t mad and he wasn’t conniving. He just wanted to eat, drink, shit, and whore. Sadly, that seemed to make him the most honorable of the last few sovereigns.

“I wouldn’t even mind listening to more of Tormund’s stories if it meant being back in Westeros.”

At Brienne’s words, Jaime feigned grave injury. “That is a step too far!” 

“Drastic times indeed.” Brienne raised a brow; the smirk at her lips matching Jaime’s. For hours, the group japed and reminisced. When at last the guards came to guide them to the hall for supper, Jaime chuckled as Addam regaled them with another tale from his time at the encampment in the Riverlands. 

Turning into the hall, they quieted as the group returning from the estates entered. As instructed, their group kept quiet and played up their injuries from the ordeal yesterday. The scowl on Cersei’s face did not go unnoticed by Jaime. Despite everything that had come to pass between them, they were twins, and Jaime could always sense when something was off. 

Over the next few days, something began to stir within Meereen. It seemed as though a long-slumbering beast was beginning to awaken in the heart of the city. Every day as their carriage rode up the rode to the masters’ estates, Jaime heard the angry voices hissing at their cart. He heard people spitting in the direction of Daenerys’ men. 

Reports began to make their way around the estates and some of Daenerys’ men did not return to Daario’s holding at night. Dead Dothraki, Unsullied, and Second Sons began to crop up in darkened allies and rundown buildings. Jaime watched with growing distress as Daario became less and less present at the holding. 

During the day, Daario and his men spent more time patrolling the streets. While Jaime worked the olive fields, he could hear the cries of dissension in the city below. _Just a couple more days. We’ll have our rigged fight and be on our way home._

The day before the fighting pit, their group set out for Lazyn’s estate. The carriage ride was quiet save for the sound of the horse’s hooves meeting the winding road up the hill. Jaime exhaled loudly and reminded himself that they only needed to survive another week until Daario could put his plan into action. 

Their day began as most did. They were assigned tasks in the olive fields and pasture to tend the animals. Soon they were ushered inside to clean Lazyn’s filthy linens. Tynor came around and barked at Brienne to follow her to Lazyn’s room. 

Jaime wished he could take linen duty in Lazyn’s room from Brienne, but since Jaime’s punishment after stealing, Lazyn only allowed Horace, Cersei, or Brienne inside. With a sympathetic glance at Brienne, Jaime watched her leave the room where they sat huddled over water basins scrubbing out his filthy linens. 

For some time, Jaime scrubbed at the filthy sheets and cringed at the thought of Brienne enduring that stench and wretched man. Then the screaming began. Azlek stood quickly and rushed into the hallway. Her head turned frantically in both directions before she heard the next scream and a loud clattering sound.

Jaime, Horace, and Cersei followed closely as Azlek moved quickly towards Lazyn’s room. A crowd was forming outside, and Jaime could see frantic movement within. Guards pushed through the crowd and as the people stepped aside, Jaime’s eyes went wide at what he saw.

Lazyn’s wife was dead on the floor with blood dripping from her lips. A cupbearer stood rigid against the wall; a dropped jug at her feet with the liquid pooling a foot away. Brienne stood slack-jawed near the cupbearer with a pile of linens at her feet. 

Everything moved quickly and Jaime couldn’t understand the commands being given by the guards and Lazyn. The master’s accusing finger pointed first at the cupbearer, and then at Brienne. Moving quickly towards them, the guards grabbed both women by the arms and tugged them from the room.

_No! This can’t be happening._

Jaime glanced at Cersei and saw the satisfied smirk on her face. Hate pooled in his gut, but before he could speak, Lazyn screamed at them.

“I want those Westerosi out now! Until I have a full investigation, I don’t want them in my holding!”


	20. The Chaos of Rebellion

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jaime desperately tries to find Daario, but the day of the fighting pit arrives with no help in sight.

The carriage ride back to Daario’s holding felt interminable. Jaime’s mind raced with worry and he prayed to the Seven that Daario would be there when he returned. As the carriages pulled into the courtyard, guards shoved Jaime forward and barked at him to move faster. 

“Where is Daario!? I need to speak with Daario!” Jaime’s eyes were frantic as he looked around the courtyard and at the entrance to the holding. 

At his side, Cersei spoke coolly as she walked by. “You had your chance. Enjoy the fallout.”

Rage coursed through Jaime as he watched Cersei walk casually into the holding. He immediately noted one of the guards moving quickly at her heels. It was the same man who oversaw them during meals and barked at them to be quiet; a Second Son and senior officer under Daario’s command. 

Something about the way the man walked near Cersei and appraised the other guards unnerved Jaime. He began to wonder if it had been poor judgement to divulge information to Daario. _Perhaps he was not on our side. I suppose we’ll find out on the morrow at the fighting pit._

When Jaime stepped into the holding, he noted the chaos inside. Guards moved quickly throughout the building. They were in their full armor with weapons at their hips and in their hands. Unsullied, Second Sons, and Dothraki moved quickly past Jaime with stern expressions on their faces.

Senior officers barked commands and urged the exiled Westerosi into the holding. Moving towards the room where they were held, Jaime began to pace wildly. Not surprisingly, Jaime’s carriage was the first to return from the estates since Lazyn cast them out early. Jaime prayed to the Seven that the other men obtained more information on the way back. 

Jaime’s mind wandered to Brienne. He was petrified that Lazyn might try to harm her or worse; kill her. An hour later, Mattix entered the room. He looked as confused as Jaime felt. “What’s going on? Why is the entire bloody city in an uproar?”

“Cersei had a hand in this. I know it! Lazyn’s wife is dead and Brienne is being held at his estate.” Jaime was frantic as he paced faster; his eyes glancing to the window as though it might afford the answers to his questions. 

Mattix grumbled obscenities and kicked the wall. “Our carriage was nearly toppled over on the way back. More mobs are attacking and drawing out the dragon cunt’s men. Is Daario here?”

Jaime shook his head in frustration. “I don’t know. I was shoved in here and my request to speak with him denied. Something is going on with one of his officers. The way he’s trailing after Cersei and glancing around looks off.”

Addam and Anson were soon shoved into the room by guards and the door promptly shut behind them. As Addam glanced at Jaime and Mattix, his brows furrowed. “Where is Brienne?”

The men shared what little they knew and had observed. When they were later escorted to the hall for supper, Daario was still not there. Jaime felt his body tense as the severity of the situation settled over him. Without Daario present, Brienne was in danger, and they would likely not be ensured easy matches at the fighting pit. 

That night, Jaime lay awake staring out the window. He appraised the night sky and considered how calm everything seemed despite the chaos in the city. Hours passed as Jaime stared at the window. When Jaime did find sleep, it was filled with nightmares and soon disrupted by the guards. 

They were urged from the room and towards the privies. As routine went, nothing seemed unusual save for Brienne’s absence. Still, Daario was not present, though he was not ordinarily there the morning of fights. 

Soon, Jaime and their small group of fighters were shoved towards the carriage. In the distance, Jaime observed several columns of smoke stretching into the sky from the middle of the city. It seemed that a rebellion had been subdued, _for now_ , and Daenerys’ men maintained control of the city.

The carriage ride to the fighting pit was eerily quiet with few voices from outside the cart. When the carriage stopped moving and the guard walked around to let them out, Jaime observed how small the crowd was in and around the fighting pit. Whatever transpired the night prior in the city seemed far worse than Jaime initially thought.

They were led inside and to the holding room by the guards. It struck Jaime how few remained of their original twelve. He once more thought of Brienne and prayed she was alive at Lazyn’s estate. For what felt an eternity, the men sat in silence. The slightest shuffling of feet echoed off the walls, and Jaime was half-convinced that the other knights could hear his heart beating wildly.

The door opened to reveal the same guard that Jaime saw following Cersei the day prior. “Lets go. All of you.”

They were shoved down the hallway and towards the makeshift armory. Instead of the usual assortment of weapons, there was a limited selection of shortswords and daggers. Jaime felt his heart quicken as he glanced at the men. It was clear that they would not receive their easy victory. Rage consumed Jaime as he considered the betrayal from Daario, or perhaps the defiance of his orders by his own men.

Jaime shoved a dagger through his boot as he had in past fights. With a shortsword in his left hand, Jaime and the other knights made their way towards the fighting pit. The guard that chased at Cersei’s heels led the way as they entered the sparsely occupied arena. 

Most of Meereen’s citizens and the masters were missing that day, but some sat in the pit awaiting the combatants. A raised platform just below the royal box and roughly fifty feet away stood before them. The platform looked more like a long table with legs on each end and center supports.

Before the lead guard spoke, others ran into the pit holding chains. Jaime’s eyes went wide as the guards chained his right wrist and placed the connecting chain to Mattix’s wrist. Glancing at Mattix, Jaime was shocked to see that Mattix’s right wrist was chained to Anson’s left. Addam was on the opposite end and chained to Anson.

_Gods. Another execution attempt. What will they do to us now?_

The lead guard spoke in a tongue that Jaime did not understand. After his speech was done, he exited through a tunnel, only to emerge moments later at a pathway leading into the royal box. Taking a seat where Daario and the masters typically sat, the lead guard nodded to someone at the corner of the fighting pit. 

As the door opened, Jaime’s eyes went wide. A dozen archers ran into the pit and took position on the raised platform just below the royal box. The platform was roughly three feet off the ground, but far too short to reach the top of the pit. The lead guard sitting in Daario’s usual seat smirked at their group of four, and Jaime felt his heart sink.

To Jaime’s right, Mattix spoke quietly. “I know what to do. We move as one to the left. They’re likely right-handed, and it is more difficult to follow a target moving to your right while maintaining accuracy. It will take them, _at best,_ 10 seconds to reload and aim. That is when we move forward.”

Jaime glanced at Mattix and nodded. Tucking the sword under his arm, Jaime undid the straps holding this false arm to his stump. He spoke quietly to Mattix. “When we start to run, I’m going to let this drop. You’ll be free in your left, and I can attack when we close the distance.”

Mattix hummed in understanding as the archers took their position. When the archers lined up and readied their bows, Jaime waited for Mattix’s command. His heart beat wildly in his chest. Taking a deep breath, Jaime waited.

“Now!” At Mattix’s command, all three sprinted left. 

The archers tried to track their movement, but their shots missed and they reached for second arrows. As explained by Mattix, their group of four took the opportunity to run forward and right. Once the archers reloaded, they slowed their forward progress and instead moved left again. Once more, the archers missed, although narrowly.

Jaime felt an arrow go whizzing over his head as he fell to the dirt on Mattix’s command to do so. With the archers reaching for another arrow, Mattix screamed at them to stand and move forward again. They were closing the distance and repeating the pattern, but as they came closer, the arrows fired with greater accuracy. Mattix took an arrow to his right shoulder, and Addam took one to his left thigh. 

Both men cried out in pain, but they repeated the pattern once more until they reached the platform. The chain fell from Jaime’s wrist, much to the shock of the archers. It was evident that the archers had not anticipated a strategy from their opponents, but instead, they expected a dizzying fear to render the Westerosi paralized and easy targets.

With his shortsword in hand, Jaime severed the ankles of the first archer he reached. The man at his left took aim, but Mattix yanked Jaime by the arm to the ground and below the platform. “Under!”

Mattix commanded them to crawl forward and underneath. Emerging on the other side, the Westerosi stood and stabbed at the confused archers. As three more men fell, Mattix grabbed a bow and arrow. He fired across the platform to the archer taking aim at Addam. The arrow sailed through the enemy’s throat, forcing the man to drop the bow and arrow before ending Addam. 

As Mattix’s arrow struck true, Jaime reached down for the dagger at his boot. When he stood, Jaime took aim and flung it at a man running down the platform with an arrow pointed at Mattix. The dagger lodged into the man’s eye and the archer fell to the platform writhing in pain. 

With the center supports under the platform, their group of four was at one end and killing archers as the rest of the archers scrambled towards them. 

Turning to his right, Jaime raised his swortshord to face an archer who abandoned the platform to fight from the ground. It was clear that the archers were poor foot soldiers. The man fumbled with his dagger and soon found Jaime’s sword lodged into his neck. Mattix commanded their group down and back under the platform. “Under! Again!”

As they dropped to the ground and moved under the platform, Mattix spoke commandingly. “Disorient them! They’re shit archers and shitter with a sword!”

Jaime spoke just loud enough for Mattix’s to hear. “I’ll emerge the opposite side.”

When the three knights emerged on the side opposite Jaime, they slashed across the ankles of the remaining archers. Jaime did the same from his side; his blade reached up to end the lives of the archers screaming in pain as they fell. 

As the remaining archers met the Stranger, Anson grabbed a bow and arrow on the platform. Taking aim, he fired at the lead guard sitting in Daario’s usual seat. The few occupants in the stadium sat in stunned silence as the Westerosi tried to steady their breathing. A smirk tugged at Anson’s lips as he lowered the bow.

“Oops. A stray arrow. My apologies.”

Jaime snorted, but the guards were quickly upon them. Yelling in a tongue foreign to Jaime, the guards pulled them towards the holding room. With the three knights chained together and Jaime without his golden hand for defense, the guards beat them and screamed in their faces. Jaime gathered it was retaliation for killing the guard taking Daario’s place that day, but he cared little.

When at last the beatings ended and the chains were removed from the other knights, Jaime laughed and stood slowly. The door shut as angry voices carried down the hallway. For as amused as they were, Mattix and Addam were in pain from the arrow wounds. Jaime tried to stem their bleeding, but both men would need healers.

Mattix chuckled while Jaime worked to slow the blood spilling from Mattix’s wound. “Fucking pathetic excuse for archers. They’d not survive a day in the Stormlands. We’d use them for target practice.”

Anson was helping Addam and nodded at the words. “Pathetic. Imagine if Ser Brienne had been here. She’d have laughed them out of the pit.”

Jaime’s head snapped to Anson at the words. “She knows the bow _that_ well?”

With a huff of laughter, Mattix answered for Anson. “All of Tarth knows the bow _that_ well, but particularly your wife. The sword and morningstar were her secondary weapons. They’re a bloody island. You do know that, correct? We’re merely the backups. We get by with bows, but not like Tarth.”

A small smile tugged at Jaime’s lips. His reply was more to himself than the men. “Of course.”

Soon a new guard came to escort them back to the carriage. Addam and Mattix hissed in pain as they were pushed into the cart. The guard barked an order and the cart began to move away from the fighting pit. 

The ride back to the holding was relatively quiet. Jaime prayed that Daario was there. While he was uncertain if he could count on Daario, it was clear that Jaime couldn’t rely on anyone else save for his group of fellow knights. 

Jaime was dismayed, though not surprised, to note Daario’s absence upon return. The guards moved them inside and shoved them back into the small room. Hours passed before they were dragged into the hall for supper. 

The group assigned to serving ignored them dutifully as guards milled about. Jaime’s eyes searched wildly for any sign of Daario, but none came. Frustration built within Jaime, but then Horace slid down the bench.

“I was not allowed at the estate today, but Cersei was. Daario has not been here all day. They say he is leading the army against the Sons of the Harpy.” 

Without another word, Horace stood from his seat and left the hall. Jaime’s mind was in a panic. Two more days passed with no sign of Daario. Unlike the other men assigned to fighting, Jaime was kept locked in the room on days to serve. He worried over Addam’s and Mattix’s injuries, but there was little he could do to aid them. 

On the third day, Daario burst into the room. He was battered and ragged; his face a map of bruises. “What happened!? Where is Brienne?”

Jaime stood quickly and shook his head. “Cersei killed Lazyn’s wife, but I think she implicated Brienne. Poison, I think. Brienne is being held at the estate.”

Daario grumbled in reply. His face reddened with rage and he shouted angrily at one of the guards in a dialect unfamiliar to Jaime. The man approached quickly and nodded at Daario’s instructions. Turning back to Jaime, Daario looked uneasy. He threw Jaime’s false hand at him and inquired. “The fighting pit… how many did you lose? I only heard that my second in command is dead. Rightly so it would seem.”

“None, though Addam and Mattix took arrows.”

Once more, Daario’s face contorted in rage. “I heard of the _fight…_ if you can call it that. I’ll tell the healer to see them upon return. I need to get your wife now.”

“Bring ample men! Something is going on there, and I know my sister is part of it.” Jaime spoke imploringly, but Daario only shook his head.

“The rebellions have been subdued. Lazyn has no grounds to keep her there when she is under my care per the queen’s orders. I’ll be right back with Brienne. The healer should be here not long after the men return.”

Without another word, Daario left the room. Jaime’s mind was wild with possibilities and he began gnawing at his lips while staring out the window. The sun was beginning to set, and the men would be back shortly.

_Gods. Please let him get to Brienne in time. We’re so close. I can’t lose her now._


	21. The Unknowns of Confinement

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Brienne waits for judgement in the cell at Lazyn's estate.

Brienne stared into the darkness and pulled her legs closer to her chest. Her back pressed against the cool stone of her cell wall. Were it not for visits from Azlek to offer bread and water, Brienne would have little context as to the passage of time. By her estimate, she had been in the cell for three days.

The first day was the worst knowing that Jaime would have to face the fighting pits. While Daario promised an easy match, she was not certain if the man was truly trustworthy. On the second day, Azlek had dropped off food and a message. “Your love lives.”

Brienne wanted to weep at the information. She wondered if Daario would make good on his promise and see them safely home. At the thought, Brienne had wondered if she would be able to join the group.

_ I hope they take the chance at freedom and don’t risk waiting for me. I hope Jaime gets to Harren and kisses him for me. I hope any execution they give me is quick. _

Of course, Brienne knew it was Cersei’s doing. For weeks she had whispered dark words and swayed her hips provocatively. The whole of Lazyn’s estate seemed captivated by her. 

Now it was the third day, but no one had visited Brienne’s cell yet. Her stomach growled in protest, and the cloth in her smallclothes needed changing. It was over a week since delivering Harren, and Brienne’s body was still bleeding. She could feel the blood beginning to saturate her breeches as she prayed for someone to enter with word of Jaime and the others.

Hours without food and water were beginning to deplete the already limited energy stores in Brienne’s body. Her lips were chapped and bleeding, but Brienne had little saliva on her tongue to moisten them. 

As Brienne began to fade from lack of nourishment and rest, torchlight crept into the cell. Like the arms of an octopus wrapping around its prey, the torchlight stretched into the cell and reached for Brienne’s feet.

Lifting her head, Brienne saw one of Lazyn’s household guards enter the room. It was a small room with only one holding cell occupying half of the space. Wordlessly, the guard opened the cell door. He inclined his head towards the doorway and barked at her. “Come!”

Brienne struggled to her feet and swayed slightly. She grasped the bars of the cell to steady herself before encouraging her feet forward. The pathway was dark, but the guard’s hand at her back pushed Brienne in the direction he desired. They ascended a set of stairs at the end of a long hallway, and awareness flooded Brienne.

They were near the main entryway of the estate, and it was past sunset. Voices in the distance caught Brienne’s attention. She recognized one voice as Lazyn’s, but the others were indistinguishable. 

The guard guided Brienne towards the voices; his hands rough and his breath putrid. When they rounded a hallway, Brienne saw Daario and a group of his men standing outside Lazyn’s chambers. 

“You cannot hold her here! She is a prisoner of Queen Daenerys and under my care.” Daario’s voice was stern as he spoke to Lazyn.

Seeing Brienne’s approach, Lazyn smiled snidely. “As I said, I’ve done nothing to her, and there is no reason to notify the queen.”

Daario turned to assess Brienne. His eyes were cold as he quickly appraised her person. “Have you been ill-treated?”

Shaking her head in refute, Brienne glanced at Lazyn. His bedchamber door was ajar as he stood in a housecoat. The robe barely fit around his body and hung open down the center.

Brienne could see he had nothing on under the robe. At his back, the door was ajar and Brienne’s eyes went wide at the sight of Cersei in the room. 

Daario took a menacing step towards Lazyn. His posture shifted and his tone dropped. “If you try to hold any of the crown’s prisoners captive again, I’ll take your head.”

Lazyn’s eyes narrowed and anger flashed in his eyes. “It is my right to investigate crimes committed in my estate! One of the other Westerosi confessed to her crime. This one poisoned my wife, and you’ll not be leaving with her!”

Daario chuckled and reached for the hilt of his blade. “Let me guess… Cersei told you. Our men overheard her trying to recruit other Westerosi to commit that very crime. Brienne is coming with me. You’ll not have her head for this. Keep the whore in your bedroom though. You do us all a favor.”

Lazyn’s eyes darted down the hallway and a slow smile spread across his face. His voice spoke confidently as his eyes moved from over their backs and back to Daario.

“No. The Westerosi stays for her execution. Daenerys Targaryen doesn’t rule here any longer. I do.”

Brienne glanced over her back and saw a group moving towards them with horned, golden masks covering their faces. Daario unsheathed his dagger and arakh as his men drew their own weapons. It was seven against roughly twenty-five. 

_ Not good odds; not bad either. _

Glancing at the guard at her side, Brienne’s eyes lowered to his hip. Before he could draw his weapon, Brienne reached for his dagger, unsheathed it, and dragged it across the guard’s neck. Grabbing Lazyn and holding the blade to his neck, Brienne growled at the man.

“Call them off, or I slice your throat open.”

Lazyn soiled himself at the words. The stench was awful and assaulted Brienne’s senses. His voice trembled as he called out in a language she didn’t understand. The approaching group hesitated; their heads cocked to the side and their weapons lowering. 

One of Daario’s guards moved to her side; his eyes never leaving the men at the other end of the hallway. “I’ll take him. Move aside.”

Doing as the guard commanded, Brienne stepped backwards. Abruptly, the guard released his hold on Lazyn and lunged for her. Two of Daario’s guards, men of the Second Sons, stabbed the Unsullied guards flanking Daario. Immediately, the assailants in gold masks surged forward. Lazyn called out angrily. “Take them to the cells! They’ll be executed before our people; a message we’ll send the dragon bitch across the Narrow Sea.”

Brienne and Daario were tackled to the ground as the last of Daario’s men lost their lives. They were dragged back to the cells by Daario’s traitorous men and the Sons of the Harpy. The men threw them back into the cell from which Brienne came. As the men flung her in, Brienne’s head hit the wall hard. Something landed hard on top of her and knocked the air from her lungs. Daario.

After the men left, Daario raged. He screamed and kicked the bars before sinking to the floor. “We’re fucked. I should have listened to your husband and taken more men.”

The mention of Jaime caught Brienne’s attention. Still gasping for air, Brienne lifted herself into a seated position against the wall and spoke softly into the darkness. “He’s alive. What of the others?”

“Alive. All four survived the fighting pit, though not unscathed. There was an uprising in the city, and I had to lead my men. I left my second in command from the Second Sons in charge; gave him instructions for the fighting pit. He had his own ideas, but the men returned the favor with an arrow through his neck.”

A teary smile spread across Brienne’s face. The darkness could mask her smile, but it could never take it away.  _ He never stops. He’ll never stop fighting. He’ll never lose.  _

With a heavy sigh, Daario’s head rested against the bars of the cell. “I’m sorry. I told him that I’d be back with you. Now he’ll likely be brought to your execution instead.”

“No. He’ll come for us.” A sad smile lined Brienne’s lips as she spoke. Her eyes stared out into the darkness. Only the faint outline of Daario clouded her view of nothingness. “He always comes back.” 

Daario snorted. “Him and what army?”

“Jaime Lannister doesn’t need an army. Only a reason. He returned for me in a bear pit without an army. He rode north to face death with me without an army. He saved me in the fighting pit without an army. He’ll come back.”

Hours passed in relative silence. Judging by the darkness Brienne had observed on the main level, they had likely been awake through the entirety of the night. Still, Brienne waited. There was no point in sleeping when Jaime was coming for her. She knew it.

Then a torchlight moved towards them. The light hurt Brienne’s eyes and she turned her head to shield herself from it. When her eyes adjusted, she glanced back towards the cell door. Golden hair and a cutting smile greeted Brienne from the other side of the bars. Standing at Cersei’s back was Azlek. The woman had uncaring eyes and a plate of food in hand.

“Hello goodsister. We’ve come to offer your last meal. It’s more than you deserve, but Azlek insists.” Cersei reached back towards the plate in Azlek’s left hand. The young woman clutched a torch in her right hand and stared into the cell. 

Throwing the stale bread at Brienne, Cersei smiled. “I’ll enjoy seeing them mount your head on a spike. I’ll enjoy watching my traitor brother weep over your lifeless body. He has always been so weak. So pathetic. I can’t say that I’m surprised he debased himself with someone like you. He needed someone so mannish to compensate for his shortcomings.”

Brienne felt her body tense with rage. Standing, Brienne approached the bars and enjoyed watching Cersei back away. As she moved, Cersei bumped into Azlek. The young woman didn’t flinch as Cersei startled and glared at her. 

Azlek’s voice was cool when she spoke; her eyes never leaving Cersei. “Careful,  _ your Grace _ .”

Cersei flinched at the title that sounded foreign on Azlek’s lips. Her eyes narrowed in contemplation before she turned back towards Brienne. “Goodbye goodsister. I hope the cut is clean. Beheadings can be gruesome affairs.” 

As Cersei turned to leave, Azlek spoke in question. “Like my father’s?” 

Brienne’s eyes left Cersei and moved slowly to Azlek. The young woman’s eyes narrowed at Cersei. Hate and rage danced across Azlek’s features as she took a step towards Cersei. “Like my brother’s? They put the head of his direwolf atop his body. Paraded Robb’s body around like a true victory. Was it a victory or a violation of guest right? What of my mother? Was the cut to her throat clean? Was it clean like the deaths of Robert’s bastards that you ordered. You missed one by the way. Gendry Baratheon sits at Storm’s End and waits for me, just as Lord Selwyn waits for his daughter. The kingdoms are uniting against Daenerys. Uniting to bring Jaime and Brienne home.”

Azlek’s left hand dropped the plate and reached up to remove her face. Brienne gasped at the sight of Arya Stark staring at Cersei. A wide smile stretched across Brienne’s lips and Arya’s name was but a whisper on Cersei’s lips. Within the cell, Daario stumbled backwards in shock at what he had seen, but he retained his color unlike Cersei.

The former queen took hesitant steps away from Arya. “What is this? You were missing… dead.” Cersei’s feet brought her against the cell door where Brienne stood. Leaning towards Cersei’s ear, Brienne whispered. “I can’t say that I’ll wish for a clean cut for you, goodsister.”

Cersei fell to the floor and crawled towards the sidewall. She began to scream for aid, but Arya only shook her head. “There is no one to hear your screams now. Only us. Us… and Horace.”

Stepping from the shadows, Brienne’s eyes widened at the sight of Horace. Pain and rage were etched across his face. “Hello,  _ your Grace _ . So many nights I’ve wondered if my brother screamed when he met the Stranger. Do you remember my brother,  _ your Grace _ ? My older brother, Lord Timon Tarbeck. He died at the Sept of Baelor when he stood in support of House Lannister and our king, Tommen. He was all that I had.”

Horace took the torch from Arya and approached Cersei. He had something in his hand that Brienne could scarcely see. It looked like a small jug, and Horace spilled its contents onto Cersei’s legs before lowering the torch. Cersei’s legs immediately caught fire and she screamed in agony. The former queen tried to flail her legs and smother the fire. With a small smile, Horace spoke again. 

“The rest of my kin died at the hands of your House. I’m the last of them. The last of House Reyne. To be clear, I’ve only been posing as Timon’s younger brother. In truth, he was my uncle; the firstborn son of my grandfather’s first marriage. I am Horace Tarbeck. My grandmother was Lady Ellyn Reyne. You might recall the three-year-old who went missing when your family massacred mine. I owe my life to Lord Timon Tarbeck. He saved me that day. Timon… the man you murdered. The man I called a brother. My uncle.”

Horace grabbed Cersei by the hair and yanked her from the floor. Tears poured down Cersei’s face as the flames licked at her hips. The stench of burning flesh filled Brienne’s nostrils. Raw muscle tissue burned red hot and Brienne grimaced at the sight. 

Horace wrapped his hands around Cersei’s pale neck. He slammed Cersei’s head into the wall and gripped her throat tightly. At his back, Arya smirked. “You were always on my list, but in truth, you are on many people’s lists. My greater priority is returning your brother and goodsister home where they belong. Home where they’ll raise their son while your body rots here in some shit dungeon in Meereen. Don’t worry. We’ll put Lazyn’s body in here with you. I know how much you enjoyed him.”

Final tears spilled from Cersei’s eyes and her hands grabbed frantically at Horace’s wrists. Brienne didn’t realize how tightly her own hands were gripping the bars until Arya touched her knuckles. “I’m going to get you home, Brienne. Home to Harren. We all are.”

Loud footsteps carried down the stairs and torchlights flooded the hallway. A group of four Unsullied moved into the room with spears in hand. A knowing smirk tugged at Arya’s lips. “Addam, do you have the key?”

Addam huffed in reply. “Gods dammit, Arya. My Unsullied name is Red Spear.”


	22. The Prophecy of Treason

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Daenerys realizes that her kingdoms have rebelled against her. She calls for them all to burn.

Daenerys paced wildly in the throne room. Her hands shook as she glared at Bran. “How could you not _see_ this!? Nearly 40,000 men stand outside the city in opposition to my crown!”

With no emotion on his face, Bran stared into Daenerys’ eyes. “My eyes were fixed to the east as you asked. I cannot watch two places at once.”

Outside the Keep, Drogon circled the skies and called out for his mother. He could sense her unrest and fear. Enemies stood at every gate. Only the Unsullied, Dothraki, Gold Cloaks, and Tarth archers stood with their queen. Tyrion rushed into the throne room only an hour earlier declaring siege formations from an approaching enemy; the Vale, the Riverlands, the West, the Free Folk, and the Stormlands. 

_Gendry failed me after I honored him! After I made amends between House Targaryen and House Baratheon. My Hand’s kingdom moves against me. Sansa’s kin move against me! Why have the other kingdoms not reported this treason!? They must all die. Every last one! I’ll burn them. Burn them all._

Tyrion looked nervously at Bran and then back at Daenerys. “We should surrender the city, your Grace. This is not a war we can win. They outnumber us.”

Rage consumed Daenerys and she raised a hand to slap Tyrion hard across the face. “How dare you! Those are your bannermen out there! You move against me. You seek to take my crown from me!”

Tyrion put up defensive hands and stammered. “I did not call the banners, your Grace. They do not recognize me as their lord. I warned you that this would happen. I killed my own father, and they hold no respect nor love of me.”

“I am the queen! I say who they will respect and recognize; not them! You will go order your bannermen to stand down, or I’ll send them your head. Now!”

Tyrion’s eyes darted to Bran as though awaiting permission. The young man only smirked and looked to Daenerys. “Any woman who must say ‘I am the queen’ is no true queen.”

The words made Tyrion flinch. His face paled as though he had seen a ghost. His lack of movement towards the battlements enraged Daenerys as she willfully ignored Bran’s words. 

She could feel her body taking on her very name. Daenerys Stormborn. A tidal wave of emotions crested over her and threatened to topple the Red Keep itself.

Drogon cried out above the Keep and Daenerys had an overwhelming urge to go to her child. Her _last_ child.

Tyrion’s face fell. He took a steadying breath and spoke with pain heavy in his voice. “I am begging you, your Grace. Open the gates. Surrender the city.”

“Torgo. I believe our Lord Hand would like to greet his people... head first.” Daenerys’ eyes were cold and unforgiving as she stared down at Tyrion. The younger Lannister took small steps backwards and bowed before scurrying from the room. 

Glancing at Torgo, Daenerys saw something cloud his eyes. Sorrow. Narrowing her gaze, Daenerys spoke to Bronn who stood at her back. “Perhaps, Ser Bronn, the West is here for their bastard. Go fetch Cersei’s babe and launch it at them. A peace offering.”

Daenerys watched as Grey Worm winced at the command. Without a word, Bronn moved towards Maegor’s Holdfast to do as he was bid, and a slow smile spread across Daenerys’ face.

Turning towards the throne, Daenerys ascended the steps to take her seat. She leaned back in the chair and stared down at her guards. In the distance, Daenerys could hear battle cries outside the city. She took a deep breath and felt her connection to Drogon strengthen.

_Burn them all, Drogon. Dracarys._

Daenerys' group of guards stood tall and strong at the base of the steps ascending to the throne. Led by Torgo, they were Daenerys’ last line of defense. With Tyrion out of the Keep, Davos commanding the fleet, and Bronn carrying out orders, Bran was the last of her small council in the throne room aside from Grey Worm.

Bran stared at Daenerys vacantly as he always did. There was no fear or concern in his eyes; only truth. Deadly, unnerving, enraging truths. Daenerys thought back just over a week ago to when Bran delivered news from Meereen.

_Just a week prior_

“They’ve won.” Bran spoke the words absently as Daenerys sat before him in the small council.

Narrowing her eyes, Daenerys stared at Bran in disbelief. “What do you mean they won? They faced a _bear_.”

“It would seem that this time, history _did_ repeat itself. As I warned you, you cannot defeat love.” Bran’s voice was foreboding as he spoke. Daenerys wanted to tear and claw him. She wanted to set Bran before Drogon and set him ablaze. She couldn’t. 

Bran held a power over Daenerys that she despised. She hoped that with the demise of Jaime and Brienne, Bran’s hold on her would weaken. 

Rage consumed Daenerys. She slammed her fist on the table. “How!?”

_Did I order them with or without weapons? I can’t recall? Did I give them crossbows as Qyburn’s tale stated? No, wait! They didn’t have crossbows. Who had crossbows? Wooden swords… they had wooden swords. I commanded that, didn’t I?_

“Does it matter? They won. Another bear has fallen before their love.” Bran’s monotone voice only served to infuriate Daenerys. Her frail fingers picked at the woodgrain of the table. 

“When will their bastard be here?”

With a momentary glance at the other council members, Bran spoke flatly. “Harren Lannister will arrive in just under three weeks. Ser Brienne only birthed him two days ago. With favorable winds, perhaps just over a fortnight.”

Daenerys stood and swiped everything off the small council table. “What did you say!? That child is a bastard without a first or last name.”

“Did you not promise Lord Selwyn the babe? He is to care for the child and raise him a Tarth. I suppose the child’s name will need to be changed from Harren Lannister to Harren Tarth.”

“I promised no such thing!” Daenerys snarled at Bran, but at her side, Tyrion’s brows furrowed. 

“You did, your Grace. Lord Selwyn has been nothing but loyal, and you promised him the babe to maintain the Tarth line.” 

The small council chambers grew quiet as Daenerys head turned slow towards Tyrion. She recalled no such thing, nor would she grant it now. 

“I might have promised him a Tarth, but a bastard is being sent to us.”

“No, a Lannister is being sent to you.” Bran’s voice called out from the corner. “A Lannister of Tarth. They wed in Meereen. Not even your commands can strip them of their love and commitment to one another.”

Daenerys’ eyes were like a lightning storm. Her eyes narrowed and she leaned across the table towards Bran. “There are no Septs in Meereen. They are not wed.”

“They spoke the words all the same. They had witnesses. Your brother had no Sept when he wed Lyanna. You had no Sept when you wed Khal Drogo. The North uses no Sept when they wed before the Weirwood. The location matters little. The vows and the heart’s truth are what make it real. They are one in heart and soul just as they fight as one in the pit.”

That night, Daenerys had struggled to find sleep. She tossed and turned, but voices in her head and visions behind her lids tormented her. When at last Daenerys found sleep, it was terrifying.

_The hour was late and Daenerys walked the hallway towards the throne room. Fires raged outside the windows, but the Red Keep had never felt colder. A figure stood just ten feet ahead, but the lighting was poor. Only the flickering flames from the raging fires outside cast a glow just strong enough to expose the figure’s face. Despite it, Daenerys knew the body. She would know it anywhere. Drogo._

_As Daenerys approached, Drogo became clearer. At first, he smiled softly at her. ‘Moon of my life.’ His arms opened to reveal their babe; Rhaego. The young babe smiled at her and reached his chubby, little hand for her face. A golden light seemed to shine on their bodies, but then darkness crept in like a flame snuffed out in the wind. The babe turned to naught by ash in Drogo’s arms. Glancing to Drogo in horror, Daenerys cried out. ‘No!’ Drogo shook his head in anger. His eyes went cold and distant as his own body paled and began to disintegrate before her eyes. ‘Once for blood.’_

_Dropping to her knees, Daenerys grabbed at the massive pile of ash, but the wind took it down the hallway. Following the ashes, Daenerys saw another figure in the darkness. Stumbling forward, Daenerys extended an arm. ‘Help me! Please! My son! My love!”_

_When she approached the dark figure, Daenerys’s eyes went wide. A sad smile tugged at her lips. Jorah grabbed her arms to hold her upright. ‘Khaleesi. I’ll let no harm befall you. You have my word.’ Tears streaked down Daenerys’ face as she cupped Jorah’s cheeks. ‘I’m sorry. You died for me, and I couldn’t help you.’_

_Jorah’s eyes clouded and his skin paled. His hands reached up for her wrists and he pushed her away. ‘I sold your secrets. I just needed a way home.’ A crown of molten gold poured onto his head from above. His eyes rolled back and he gasped for air as Viserys once had. ‘Once for gold.’_

_When Jorah fell to the floor with a thud, Daenerys dropped to her knees and clutched his tunic. ‘No, please. You promised to protect me. Come back.’ A babe’s wail from down the hallway cut through her desperate cries. Standing quickly, Daenerys followed the sound. Her eyes were frantic and her heart pounded. ‘Rhaego!? Is that you!? Come back! I’m here!’_

_Daenerys pushed through a door and followed the sound of a crying babe. Two dark figures of similar height stood at the base of the stairs ascending to the throne. Running forward, Daenerys’ heart raced. ‘Rhaego! I’m here!’_

_As she neared the figures, they turned to face her. The battered faces and bodies of Jaime and Brienne greeted Daenerys. They had tears running down their faces as Brienne held a crying babe with a tuft of blonde curls that spilled from beneath a swaddle. Big blue eyes stared at Daenerys when she approached. ‘Our babe. Please. Please keep your promise. Let my father raise him. Let him live.’_

_Shaking her head in refute, Daenerys tried to back away. Brienne’s face grew desperate. ‘You promised. You promised my father. You promised mercy. You promised to break the wheel.’ Rage shook Daenerys’ body. No Mercy. Be a dragon. Fire and blood._

_The Kingslayer snarled at her as he kept his arm protectively around Brienne. ‘You can’t kill our love. We’ll fight for him. We’ll come back for him.’_

_As Daenerys refused them once more, she bumped into something. Turning around, Daenerys saw Jon standing before her. ‘My queen. What have you done? You’re better than this, Dany.’_

_‘No! Jon, you don’t understand. Don’t you see!? They mean to kill me!’ Daenerys words were frantic and she tried to grab at his face, but someone stepped to Jon’s side. Grey Worm._

_‘My queen. What have you done? You kill innocent people. Burn them. You promise to do better. You promise freedom.’_

_At Grey Worm’s words, Daenerys shook her head. She looked between Jon and Grey Worm and denied their accusations. ‘No. Neither of you see it. I’ve only punished the guilty. They mean to kill me! Them! All of them. They’re all coming for my crown as they came for my father’s.’_

_A figure stepped out at Jon’s other side. Daario._

_‘My queen. What have you done? You condemned innocents. Tortured them. You promised to answer injustice with justice.’_

_Daario’s eyes were despondent as he spoke. The betrayal and hurt in his voice startled her. As the three men took steps towards her, Daenerys backed up in a panic. ‘No! Why can’t any of you see it!? They mean to kill me. They will kill me for their love and you’re letting them!’_

_As Daenerys stumbled past Jaime and Brienne, they only stepped aside. Unlike Drogo and Jorah, they did not die. They watched. They watched and held their babe close. Daenerys’ heels hit the steps and sent her falling backwards. She scrambled quickly up the stairs as the men followed slowly._

_With daggers in their hands, the men kept their pained eyes locked on her. Daenerys turned and crawled on her hands and knees. She reached out for the Iron Throne and pulled herself onto it. As she turned around in the chair, the men were upon her. Their daggers cut into Daenerys as she raised her arms to cover her head and chest. She screamed in pain under their assault. The Kingslayer’s voice called out through her screams._

_‘Once for love.’_

Daenerys awoke with a start. Her limbs were still thrashing about wildly and searing pain coursed through her body. As her breathing steadied, Daenerys realized she had wandered into the throne room during sleep, and sat upon the Iron Throne. In her fit, the blades of the throne had cut into her arms. Blood dripped down the sides of the chair as Daenerys wrapped her arms around herself and sobbed. 

  
  


Now as Daenerys sat on her throne with a siege going on, she glanced down at her arms. Pulling back her sleeves, Daenerys stared at the scabs on her arms. The cuts had not been so deep as to warrant stitches, but Daenerys considered that if she had not woken up quickly that night, she would have bled to death on the throne. 

A loud scream near the doorway caught Daenerys’ attention. A Dothraki warrior ran inside and screamed. “The dragon attack us! The archers attack us!”

Daenerys startled at the information. Her eyes glanced around the room frantically before settling on Bran. His eyes were rolled back in his head, and his body convulsed as though enduring some type of battle. _He’s battling Mirra Miz for control of his mind and body! She’s here for me._

A large group of men spilled into the hall as Daenerys sat perched on her throne. The metal arms of the chair sent sharp tingles through her body everytime she shifted. Leaning forward, Daenerys’ frantic eyes scanned her guards to find Grey Worm.

“Torgo! Kill them! Kill them all! Kill Bran! The witch has him!”

A strange look flashed across Grey Worm’s face. He looked pained despite his hand guiding his spear into position. With a broken voice, he commanded his men to engage the threat; to fight to their last breath. 

Then, Daenerys saw him. At the rear of the group, Selwyn Tarth stood with a longsword in hand and rage on his face. Daenerys' men stepped forward to engage the group pouring into the throne room. Bronn stood near Selwyn and blood dropped from his own weapon. Gripping the cool arms of the chair, Daenerys leaned forward. 

_Traitors! Kill them. Burn them. Burn them all! Fire and blood is the only way._

Steel met steel in a dizzying blaze. Battle cries echoed off the throne room walls and sent a chill down Daenerys’ spine. Glancing at Bran, she could see the young man convulsing in his wheelchair. His eyes were still rolled back as he struggled. 

Then Daenerys realized it with a sickening dread. _I can’t feel Drogon. Who is he moving against? The witch has taken him. Mirri Miz has taken my last child. She has claimed Bran’s body to get to him._

Looking to the rafters, Daenerys cried out for Drogon. She needed to regain control and unite once more with her child. “Drogon! Dracarys! Burn them all! Burn them all! Burn them all!”

War raged outside the gates and shook the city. Drogon’s cries filled the air, but the connection was still broken. In desperation, Daenerys continued to look to the rafters and cry out for her child to save her. To kill the traitors. To destroy them all.

“Drogon! Dracarys! Burn them all! Burn them all! Burn them all!”

A large presence was moving towards Daenerys, and at first, she thought Drogon descended from the skies to save her. Then she noticed the sounds of battle within the throne room had stopped. Her eyes moved down slowly and she saw the massive frame of Selwyn Tarth ascending the steps before her.

Daenerys realized it then. She looked to her last friend, Grey Worm, and saw tears streaming down his face. He had allowed the enemy past and stood to the side with his spear on the floor. His lips moved, but no sound came out. “I’m sorry.”

_He stopped fighting for me._

As Selwyn Tarth loomed over Daenerys, his face was a storm. The rage radiating off his body shook Daenerys where she sat. “How could you ever doubt a father’s love for his daughter. I would part the sea to bring my daughter home before I ever bend to you. My goodson had the right of it. You are Aerys reborn.”

The next thing Daenerys felt was something warm spilling from her throat. Selwyn’s lips moved, but she couldn’t hear his voice. “For Brienne.”

_Once for love._


	23. The Retaliation of Prisoners

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Bit of a flashback chapter for Jaime during the rescue of Brienne and Daario.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Double posting day. This and the next chapter (chapter 23 - The Return of Order)

Jaime ran to the bars of the cell and reached through for Brienne. “Are you alright? Did anyone hurt you?”

Shaking her head in refute, Brienne offered a teary smile that was anything but sad. “I’ve had enough of Meereen now.”

“Good. I might actually prefer King’s Landing to this place.” Jaime smiled in return as Addam unlocked the cell door. 

Glancing to the floor, Jaime saw Cersei’s smoldering body. It was strange seeing his twin’s eyes devoid of life rather than dancing with wildfire. For much of his life, Jaime thought of little more than staring into those eyes and willing away all around them. In recent years, Jaime came to consider Cersei’s eyes to be little more than a gateway into the Seven Hells.

The sight of Cersei dead before Jaime caused a strange sorrow for the girl he lost many years ago. He knew that it would have hurt to kill Cersei himself, but Jaime would have to protect Brienne. Standing near the body, Horace took on a defensive posturing. His chest heaved and his eyes locked on Jaime.

“Will you kill me for it?” Horace’s voice had an edge to it that reminded Jaime of a trapped animal. 

With a shrug of his shoulders, Jaime eased Horace’s concerns. “No more than you’d kill me for it. Cersei died many years ago. That was a hateful shell of a woman.”

Daario’s voice was wary as he appraised their group. “How did you flee the holding?”

Jaime understood the true meaning of the question. Where are his men? What is happening outside? Is the holding secure?

Glancing at the knights posing as Unsullied, Jaime recalled the events from the evening prior.

_Last Night_

After Daario left the holding, a healer came to treat their wounds and offer medicine to ward off potential infection. The city had descended into chaos with large groups of rebels trying to overwhelm Daenerys’ army. Outside the door, Jaime could hear the hurried footsteps of guards moving throughout the corridor. Unsettled voices echoed off the hallway walls and drifted under the door.

Glancing at the men, Jaime noted the uneasy expressions on their faces. _Gods dammit. Daario should have taken more men. How can’t he even trust the few he has here._

No man among them attempted to take rest. Until Brienne was back, there was a tension in the room that made sleep impossible. Jaime’s body vibrated with despair as the hours passed and Brienne had yet to return. Glancing at the window, Jaime could see the first signs of dawn.

Jaime voiced his concern; his words directed at no one in particular. “This has been far too long. Something isn’t right.”

Addam stood from his seat on the floor and walked towards the door. Pressing an ear to it, Addam’s brows furrowed as he tried to assess the activity in the holding.

“No one here has taken rest either. I hear voices still.”

Another hour passed before loud screams filled the hallway outside their room. The knights stood together and stared at the door. In the hall, the sound of steel meeting steel and men dying replaced the relative quiet from previous hours. Adrenaline began to course through Jaime’s body and his heartbeat quickened as he stared at the door. They could hear the sound of doors opening down the hallway as the shouting began to die down.

_They’re checking all the rooms._

“If anyone opens that door, we pull the soldier inside quickly. We can overpower one or two; take any weapons and remove more threats as they attempt to force the door open again.”

Silent nods were the only answer that Jaime received. Footsteps and shouts approached the room. Jaime slowly moved towards the door and raised his false hand to signal it would be used as a weapon.

Mattix moved at Jaime’s back and prepared to shut the door once the assailant entered. The door handle rattled and it pushed open quickly. Before the soldier could appraise the room’s occupants, Jaime grabbed the man’s arm with his left to tug him inside. With his false hand, Jaime smashed the man’s throat once he realized the face was entirely covered with some type of golden mask. 

Shoving the door closed, Mattix grabbed the handle and pushed his weight against it. Loud voices on the other side called out in protest. Before Jaime could take additional action, Addam had confiscated the assailant’s blade. He sliced across the man’s neck before he and Anson dragged the body to the corner. Jaime put on the mask quickly and took the blade from Addam. 

Mattix opened the door and Jaime watched from behind the heavy mask as the next assailant took pause. A moment of confusion seemed to distract the man, but he had only a heartbeat to react before a dagger was plunged into his neck. When the man slumped to the ground, Jaime saw another at his back. The man called out for aid, but Jaime sliced across his middle. The two began to grapple, but Mattix was quickly beside Jaime and driving his shoulder into the man.

With a dagger to Mattix’s shoulder, the assailant reached for a longer blade at his hip. Jaime ended the man before another weapon could be drawn. Mattix hissed in pain as Jaime removed the dagger. Together, they collected the weapons and masks. More men came running towards them from down the hallway, but a group of Unsullied and Dothraki were at their backs.

Not caring to join the fight, Jaime and his fellow knights moved in the opposite direction with weapons drawn. Jaime could hear the battle at their backs as men cried out to their chosen god or gods before taking their last breath. 

Only two Sons of the Harper survived the altercation between opposing groups. When the men approached, their group of four handled them easily enough. They managed to find a supply closet with weapons, shields, and outfits of the Unsullied. It was an unspoken group decision to disguise as the Unsullied. Jaime needed a way to get into Lazyn’s estate. Given the hour, they could arrive under the false pretense of dropping Horace and Cersei for the day’s work. 

After dressing, the knights made their way towards the room of those who served. The group sat huddled together in a corner and panic erupted when they stared up at four Unsullied. It wasn’t until Jaime removed his helm and shushed them that the group of exiled Westerosi calmed. Jaime was both surprised yet not when he noted Cersei’s absence.

“Come on. You all need to dress like this.” Jaime guided the group towards the supply room, but there weren't enough Unsullied attire. “Horace, you stay dressed like that. We need a reason to get into Lazyn’s estate, so we’ll pretend at dropping you off. The rest of you will come with us and pretend to be our captives, but you’ll need to stay behind when we enter the estate. Too many Unsullied will appear suspicious. Can any of you fight?”

Four of the eleven lords raised their hands to which Jaime nodded. “Good. You’ll stay with us. Lazyn has household guards that will need tending to. I imagine most are in the city fighting though.”

Making their way through the holding, Jaime noted the dead bodies littering the floor. Sons of Harpy, Second Sons, Unsullied, and Dothraki lay dead or dying; their blood pooling together as though they never stood in opposition to begin with.

Minus a stray guard or two moaning in pain on the floor, any remaining soldiers had fled the holding. Their group of fifteen stepped outside. The sky looked peaceful, but the city was anything but. Jaime felt his heart quicken at the knowledge that they needed to get to Lazyn’s estate quickly. Every moment delayed was an increased chance of harm befalling Brienne. 

In the distance, fighting and fires raged. Appraising the Ghiscari hills, Jaime’s eyes narrowed at how peaceful they appeared. The fighting was heavily concentrated in the city where the common folk lived. 

Making their way towards the stables, the men prepared three covered carriages to give the appearance of normalcy. Jaime’s carriage would contain Horace and their group of eight capable fighters. Anson and Mattix sat outside the carriage to steer the horses. At their back, the two other carriages loaded up. They would wait at the base of the Ghiscari hills at a far enough distance from the city center. 

Jaime considered the location of the fighting and fires. They should find their path towards the estates unobscured by conflict between Daenerys’ army and the Sons of the Harpy. For the entirety of the carriage ride, Jaime felt as though he was holding his breath. 

As the carriage jostled up the hill, Jaime spoke in hushed tones. “The household guards will likely speak in a tongue that Anson and Mattix can’t understand. These disguises are only to allow us through the gates and buy us enough time to engage them. Horace, can you find Azlek and get the key? She’ll know where it is?”

Horace raised a challenging brow. “What makes you think she’ll be willing to help us?”

With a sigh, Jaime shook his head. “I don’t know. She helped me once when Brienne needed medicine. Just move inside the moment we pull into the courtyard. I don’t know if they’ll be confused that you’ve arrived today, or expecting it. Try to appear normal”

With a heavy sigh, Horace leaned back and rolled his eyes. “This better work.”

“Or what? Do you have a better idea?” Jaime glared at Horace.

“Do you expect us to collect your sister too?” There was a challenge in Horace’s tone and a fire in his eyes. He stared at Jaime awaiting reply, but Jaime found it more peculiar that Horace wasn’t pushing back on entering the estate. 

Locking eyes with Horace, Jaime leaned forward. “I don’t give two shits what becomes of Cersei. Lazyn has my wife!”

With a heavy sigh, Horace offered a begrudging nod of agreement. “Fine! Just take care of the guards. I’m not a fighter.”

When the carriage came to a stop in the courtyard, everything happened as planned. Horace immediately left the cart and moved inside. It was clear that his presence had not been expected. The household guards approached Anson and Mattix and began barking at them in a language unfamiliar to Jaime.

Fortunately, Anson and Mattix had spears. Jaime could hear the moment of impact when steel met flesh. He nodded to the other men to indicate it was time to move from the cart. Stepping into Lazyn’s estate, Jaime noticed the wide-eyes and panicked expressions of the workers. Putting up hands to indicate they meant them no harm, Jaime spoke in a muffled voice from under his helm. “Lazyn?”

One of the girl’s pointed down the hall. Running with the other men at this back, Jaime heard a commotion inside Lazyn’s room. The familiar stink of Lazyn greeted Jaime as he stepped inside. Lazyn was on his knees with blood pouring from his throat. Behind him, Azlek stood with a wide smile as she finished dragging the blade across his throat. 

When her eyes met Jaime’s, Azlek winked. “Kingslayer. Don’t look so surprised. Death was harder to beat than this miserable shit.”

“Arya?” Jaime’s jaw dropped at the words. 

Before they could speak on it further, the distant shouts of guards drifted down the hallway. Arya grabbed Jaime’s arm and barked at him. “I sent Cersei and Horace to the kitchens. I’ll get Brienne from the cells.” Turning towards the rest of the men, Arya spoke commandingly. “Deal with the guards and I’ll meet you in the dungeon. Back staircase, all the way down on the right. Lazyn always carries the key on his person. I’m not sifting through that mess. Addam, you can find it.”

Addam scoffed. “My Unsullied name is Red Spear, and thank you for the _pleasant_ assignment.”

Jaime wondered at how Arya knew Addam’s name, but there were more pressing matters to tend to. He ran into the hallway to help the lords trying to fend off the guards. The household guards’ skill was lacking. It was as Jaime had hoped; the best were in the city fighting. 

  
  


Now as Jaime stared at Daario in the darkness of the dungeon, he shrugged at the question inquiring as to how they fled. “Your holding is a bit fucked. I wouldn't recommend going back there now. It’s also a bit of a mess upstairs. Lazyn shit himself again, though I doubt anyone will bother cleaning it up this time.”

Their group moved quickly through the dark corridor and back up the stairs. Holding Brienne’s hand as they moved, Jaime glanced at her face and realized with worry that she looked pale and weak. It was likely that she had been afforded limited food and water over the last few days. On the main level, there was little more than frightened servants huddled together in corners. 

Jaime wasn’t certain if they would prefer to flee or stay in Meereen, but he hardly knew how to communicate with them. Finding Tynor, Jaime stared at the girl who spoke just enough of the common tongue to understand. “You need help? We’re leaving.”

Tynor spoke to the group in their native tongue. When they all shook their heads in refute, Jaime sighed. He could hardly blame them for mistrusting a group of exiled Westerosi heading straight towards danger. Pulling Brienne towards the carriage, their group loaded inside. Mattix and Anson urged the horses forward from the courtyard and back down the hill. Jaime could only pray to the gods that they arrived at the harbor with little confrontation. 


	24. The Return of Order

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The Westerosi make their way to safety.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Double posting this chapter and the prior chapter (The Retaliation of Prisoners). Timeline wise, there are actually a couple of days between the siege in King's Landing and these last couple of Meereen chapters. Since Jaime's POV after Brienne's capture spanned multiple days, it was difficult to convey that timeline for King's Landing.

Brienne stared at Arya as the carriage jostled down the road. Her arrival had felt too good to be true, but Brienne wondered at how long Arya had been there. Jaime held tightly to Brienne at her right side, and Addam sat to her left. 

“How long?” It was all that Brienne could muster as she stared in disbelief at Arya. 

With a wolfish smile, Arya met Brienne’s stare. “I arrived with you on the ship, though I was wearing the face of a Dothraki. I’ve never felt so tall.”

Daario was seated at Arya’s side and looked to her with unease. “You’re a Faceless Man.”

“I am  _ no one _ to most, but Arya Stark to those who matter.” Arya’s eyes flickered back to Brienne. Without receiving another question, she gave more context. “I helped the Hound fight the Mountain, and I followed your idiot husband and Cersei into the tunnels. I intended to claim another name, but I don’t kill pregnant women. I waited until the fighting stopped to emerge from the tunnels, but it was evident that something was  _ off _ . Jon seemed upset, so I stayed in the shadows. I overheard Daenerys’ plans to summon my sister and you to King’s Landing, so I waited. It was Sansa’s idea to fake my death. She, Selwyn, Bran and I planned my coming here to keep an eye on you. A backup for your backup.”

Arya smirked as her eyes drifted to Addam. “Not that they questioned your skill, but my way is a bit more discreet and a lot less antagonistic.”

“I am not antagonistic! I’m very charming. The people have  _ loved  _ me here.” Addam spoke as though the words true, but the snort from Daario did little to refute Arya’s statement.

“Does Tyrion know?” Jaime’s voice was uncertain. Brienne’s eyes darted between Jaime and Arya as she awaited the answer.

Arya shook her head in refute. “No. Only Sansa, Selwyn, and Bran. The last time Tyrion was given information things went to shit. Sansa thought it best to keep a secret for once. Plus, it would make Tyrion’s reactions more genuine if he didn’t know that I was here to protect you.”

Brienne could feel the tension in Jaime’s muscles as he held her close. She knew that Jaime was very protective of Tyrion. Their bond was strong despite years of resentment towards Tyrion’s actions that destroyed his House.

Turning to Daario, Arya raised a brow. “Some of your men betrayed you. Henza was leading them under Cersei’s influence. He was working with the Sons of the Harpy, and I imagine his men let their new allies into the holding last night while most of your men fought in the city.”

Daario grumbled at her side. “I thought as much of late, and I even encountered two of Henza’s lead officers in the rebellions. It was Henza who I left in charge at the fighting pit the other day. Apparently he didn’t agree with my direction for the match.”

The young wolf raised a brow and spoke teasingly. “Sellswords. You should know something about that type of betrayal. My brother shared quite a bit about you before I left Westeros. The only thing that I hadn’t expected was you to help.”

Daario’s eyes narrowed in reply. “Have you been in my holding the entire time?”

“Only at first. I needed to understand who your officers were; the trustworthy and untrustworthy. Once Jaime and Brienne were assigned at Lazyn’s estate, I took a new face; a household guard at Lazyn’s holding. Azlek was assigned to oversee Horace, Cersei, Jaime, and Brienne for a reason. She was an informant for Lazyn and a disguised servant. She did quite a lot of observing, which made it easy for me to pick my new face. No one would think twice when I hovered near these two.”

Arya inclined her head towards Jaime and Brienne. With an unamused expression, Arya spoke challengingly at Jaime. “You almost got yourself killed taking that medicine. Dolt. When she found you helping Brienne, she was going to inform Lazyn. I  _ intercepted  _ her. Collected the necessary face in the process.”

Brienne’s brows furrowed in reply. She turned to Jaime questioningly, and his face paled. She had only vague recollections from that week as her body fought the infection. Nodding his head slowly, he muttered under his breath. “Thank you.” 

“Horace and I had some lovely chats.” Arya smirked at Horace who sat to her left. “We spoke the day he declined to give aid to Cersei’s scheme. I know what it’s like to have House Lannister destroy your own House.”

Brienne looked to the floor of the carriage. The memory of Horace’s words to Cersei replayed in her mind. Brienne could not fault Horace for his hatred of Cersei. Sansa had felt the same way for many years. A debt was collected that day.

“Your House? I couldn’t place it, but I recall seeing you at court and the Rock. You’re of the West, yes?” Jaime’s eyes narrowed at Horace, and Brienne could feel the tension intensify within the cart.

Horace all but growled his reply. “I am not born of my grandfather’s first or second marriage. I was born of his third to Lady Ellyn Reyne.”

Addam gasped at Brienne’s side and an amused expression lined his face as he leaned forward to meet Jaime’s eyes. “The tot that got away. How fucking fitting.”

Jaime grimaced before grumbling at Addam to shut up. Before another word could be spoken, Horace crossed his arms and spoke tersely. “Perhaps you could refrain from humming the Rains of Castamere at me again.”

Brienne’s lips parted in shock and she whispered to Jaime. “You didn’t…”

“He insulted you. No one insults my wife. I didn’t know he was of  _ that  _ line.” Jaime’s words made it clear that there would be no convincing him otherwise. For several minutes they rode in silence. Then, Anson spoke quietly through the cart’s cover. “Trouble ahead. One of our carriages is missing and the other is turned over. One of the armies got to them.”

Glancing at Jaime, Brienne inquired after what Anson meant. Holding Brienne closer, Jaime whispered into her ear. The information made her stomach drop. While they were no longer stuck at Lazyn’s estate, they were hardly out of danger. She sighed and considered their options.

“Where can we even go? We’ll not get far before both groups figure out we’re not friendly to either cause.”

Jaime bit his lips and shrugged. “The harbor. I’ve no better idea than that.”

“I have a ship there. It was how I planned to get you all out.” Daario glanced out the back of the carriage as they passed the cart that lay toppled over in the street with dead Westerosi on the ground. Brienne’s heart broke for the men in the cart. She wondered where the other cart might be and if they were safe, or in a similar state. 

As the carriage jostled back and forth along the bumpy path, Daario leaned out the back of the cart to appraise the city. Everything sounded relatively quiet considering what Jaime had mentioned only moments ago. The larger question seemed to be who won the battle; Sons of the Harpy or Daenerys’ men.

As if reading her mind, Daario sighed and sank back into his seat. “I would guess that Daenerys’ forces have won. After their initial defeat years ago, the Sons of the Harpy and masters never regained full strength. I suspect that were it not for Cersei, they would not have attacked  _ yet _ .” 

Abruptly, the cart came to a halt. Anson’s panicked voice called out through the thin material covering the carriage. “Second Sons and Unsullied. They’re blocking the harbor and they don’t look pleased.”

“Fuck.” Daario jumped out from the cart without affording information for what he planned. Brienne looked to Jaime in a panic, but he only appeared confused. As they all sat in silence, Brienne strained to hear the conversation. 

“Kasporio, what do you think you’re doing?” Daario’s voice called out from near the front of the carriage. 

“What am I doing?” Kasporio’s voice was challenging as he paused before continuing. “The question is, what are you doing? You’ve not been following orders from Daenerys. Henza told us as much.”

“Apparently you are not following  _ her  _ orders either. Do the men at your back know how easily you and Henza switch sides? You were just helping the Sons of Harpy not two days prior. I saw you when the mask fell from your face in that alley. It seems with their defeat, you’ve returned like a whipped dog.”

Kasporio snarled and Brienne heard a blade unsheathe. “I don’t know what you’re talking about, but I do know that  _ those  _ men are  _ not  _ Unsullied.” 

_ Mattix and Anson. Seven hells… this doesn’t sound promising. _

Brienne’s eyes went wide and she glanced uneasily at Jaime. He leaned across the cart and spoke desperately to Arya. “I don’t suppose you’ve any more useful faces on your person?”

With a hand at her dagger, Arya’s jaw clenched and she moved towards the rear of the cart. Before she could get far, Daario’s voice filled the air around them.

“I’m transporting prisoners to the ship. Daenerys wants them executed before their kin in King’s Landing. They Weserosi tried to rebel, and she has taken more of them prisoner. Since Zharin and Henza couldn’t seem to get the job done in the fighting pits, she wishes to present them before her dragon.”

Brienne wondered if Daario had weapons in the event Kasporio tried to fight back. Instead of such a fear coming to fruition, Kasporio responded commandingly. “Show me the prisoners.”

Footsteps moved alongside the cart, and Daario spoke with laughter in his voice. “I’ll warn you. There’s a vicious little thing in there with a  _ mighty sharp _ looking dagger. Her face is a bit messed up too.”

Brienne’s eyes darted to Arya and she saw the deadly glint in the young wolf’s eyes. It was more an instruction to Arya than it was intended as friendly conversation with Kasporio. As Kasporio came into view, Arya quickly dragged the blade across his neck. Daario caught the man and shoved his twitching body into the cart. He called out loudly in a foreign tongue to the army standing before the cart.

Tapping the side of the cart, Daario walked behind it as the horses began to move forward once more. He muttered to those inside the cart. “We’ll likely have to run for it once they see Kasporio’s worthless body bleeding all over the place.”

Jaime handed a weapon to Brienne; his eyes despairing at the realization that they were only ten fighters to what was likely a much larger number. Reaching into the carriage, Daario took a blade from Kasporio’s belt. His eyes darted uneasily to the right and left of the carriage. 

“At least 100 men. Pull Kasporio further into the cart and try to shield him.”

Brienne felt her stomach drop. Two of the lords dragged Kasporio’s body as far into the cart as possible. Speaking to someone at the left of the cart, Daario spoke in a foreign tongue once more. The only word that Brienne understood was ‘Kasporio’. 

From the front of the cart, Brienne could hear Mattix mutter. “They’re looking at us funny.”

Another voice at Daario’s side called out. Brienne could discern that it was Valyrian and likely an Unsullied. Shouting in the distance filled the carriage and their group looked at one another with worry etched on their faces. Daaroi began shouting commands at the men. Leaping onto the back of the cart, Daario called out to Mattix and Anson. 

“Hurry! Towards the ships!”

Glancing into the cart, Daario spoke to those in the group. “More Sons of the Harpy. We’re about to get caught between two warring groups.”

The carriage moved faster as Daario clung off the backside. His eyes darted around as he shouted to the men. Most of Daenerys’ army followed his command, but some Second Sons began to grab at the cart. They shouted in different languages, and Brienne watched in confusion as Darrio leaned across the cart and began swinging wildly. The fabric covering of the carriage was shaken violently and hands from the other side gripped at the fabric.

“Games up! They mean to kill us  _ and  _ the Sons of the Harpy!”

Addam and Jaime stood quickly and cut through the fabric covering. Everyone in their carriage stood to greet Daenerys’ forces trying to grab hold of the fast-moving cart as it made its way towards the harbor. Brienne dragged her blade across stray arms, and took aim at exposed necks as men reached up for them. At the front of the cart, Anson fought off men on both sides with his spear as Mattix tried to direct the horses.

“To the left Mattix! The ship at the far end!” 

Glancing at the rear of the carriage, Brienne’s eyes went wide. Masked fighters wearing Sons of the Harpy masks clashed with the frontlines of Daenerys’ forces. The Sons of the Harpy appeared to outnumber Daenerys’ men 2 to 1. Despite the incoming threat, Second Sons continued to reach for the cart. Blades slashed across the wooden slats and hands reached up to grab the edge. 

Daario continued shouting at the men in various languages, but the cart moved quickly towards the docks. The men on the ground were not so foolish as to stand in the way of the charging horses. As it encountered rockier paths, the carriage began to shake violently from side to side. Jaime held Brienne close and screamed at everyone to stay low. “It’s going to topple!”

No sooner than the words left his mouth, one of the cart’s wheels hit a divot. The carriage rolled violently and dumped everyone from the cart. The fall knocked the air from Brienne’s lungs. The left side of her body crashed into the ground and sent pain throughout her body. Recovering as quickly as she could, Brienne felt Jaime’s hand slip into her own. “Run!”

Their group began to flee, but one of the men broke his leg in the fall. Brienne screamed for aid, but before the group could stop to help him, daggers and arakhs carved the fallen Westerosi where he lay. 

“Come on, Brienne! We have to go now!” Jaime pulled her forward once more. Daario remained at their backs and tried to offer them coverage, but there were too many men approaching. Then Brienne heard a familiar sound in the sky. A dragon was approaching from the east, and a chill ran down Brienne’s spine.

_ Daenerys is here. _

Glancing at Jaime, Brienne observed the same realization on his features. He shook his head in refute and continued to pull her forward. “No! We’re so close! We’re going home!”

“No!” Arya screamed and stopped running. “It’s Jon!”

Brienne’s head snapped to the sky. Flying low on Drogon, Brienne choked back a sob at the sight of Jon. He began directing Drogon to lay waste to the warring armies below. Daario urged them forward once more as Daenerys’ men were distracted by the dragon; likely thinking it Daenerys. “Keep running! Get to the ship!”

Doing as instructed, Brienne renewed her effort to run towards the ship. She could feel the heat of the dragon’s fire at her back despite being far enough away to avoid the flames. The screams of dueling armies rose into the sky as Drogon torched everything in its path. 

As they neared the ship, Drogon passed overhead. Brienne looked up to see Jon’s wild eyes staring at them. Guiding Drogon around, Jon made another pass through Sons of the Harpy and Daenerys’ men. It was the greatest relief that Brienne had ever felt. 

As the fighting stopped, Jon guided Drogon to the ground. “Brienne! Arya!” Jon ran towards the group and engulfed Arya in a hug. His eyes moved over Arya’s shoulders to Brienne and his eyes filled with tears. “I’m so sorry. I didn’t know.”

Brienne shook her head in dismissal. “It’s fine. Harren? Is he alright?”

Nodding in affirmation, Jon stepped back from his embrace of Arya. “Aye. He’s perfect. Davos has him and Cersei’s babe. Harren arrived just before the siege in King’s Landing, and Cersei’s babe was already on Tarth.”

Jon glanced around; his eyes uncertain as though searching for something that he had no context for. “Is this all that’s left of you?”

“There were others. Another carriage, but we lost them.” Anson called out as he stepped beside Brienne. 

With a nod of understanding, Jon bit his lip in consideration. “You board the ship. I’ll take a pass over the city. Perhaps they’ll approach the harbor if they’re still alive.”

Brienne worried for the others in their group who were lost, but she also worried for the people in the city. They were innocent and caught between two warring groups; Daenerys’ men and the Sons of the Harpy. From what little Brienne had learned for the Sons of the Harpy, they sought to return Meereen to control of the masters. The thought of all those people being enslaved in Meereen broke Brienne’s heart. 

With a heavy sigh, Daario stepped forward and locked eyes with Jon. “I’ll help you try to find them. Any remaining Second Sons and Sons of the Harpy can’t be trusted, but the Unsullied are loyal to my command. Now that they’ve seen Drogon here, they’ll think my word true. I’ll command them to help.”

As Jon climbed atop Drogon once more, Brienne watched as Daario procured a horse that had spooked during Jon’s approach. He calmed the animal and mounted it before leaving to find some Unsullied guards to aid the search. Sending a prayer to the gods, Brienne hoped they could find the missing Westerosi. 


	25. The Bliss of Reunion

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The Westerosi arrive home. Brienne and Jaime are reunited with Harren.

“Gods, Jaime! You’re going to wear a hole in the bloody deck and sink us all. If that’s what ends up killing us after all this, I’ll torture you in the Seven Hells for eternity.” Addam leaned against the mast as Jaime continued his manic pacing back and forth.

They had been at sea for just under three weeks. Every part of Jaime wanted to accept Jon’s offer to ride back to King’s Landing on Drogon, but it felt wrong to leave Addam, Anson, Mattix, and the other survivors behind. Brienne had felt the same way. They had become a team, and leaving them now felt unfair, no matter how selfish Jaime wanted to be. Arya had elected to fly off on Drogon; a decision that Jaime could hardly begrudge her. 

Brienne leaned against the railing of the ship. Glancing at her, Jaime followed her gaze to the outline of King’s Landing in the distance. _How can she be so bloody still! I’m about to jump off the deck and swim to shore._

It was not the only way in which Jaime and Brienne were dissimilar. While Cersei always talked about being Jaime’s mirror image, Brienne was his counterbalance. He was chaotic while she was calm. He was sharp-tongued while she was diplomatic. He was rash while she was prudent.

Jaime needed Brienne in more ways than he cared to admit. She was his guiding light in the darkness, and her mere presence calmed him. Walking to the ship’s railing to join her, Jaime wrapped his arms around Brienne and buried his face into her neck.

“How are you so calm?”

Brienne’s arm reached back to run a hand through his hair. “I’m actually so anxious that I’m standing here in case I puke. That and I’m considering jumping into the sea to swim the rest of the way.”

_Perhaps not so different, but rather a different presentation of emotions._

Jaime chuckled into her neck. “That’s why I stood near Addam… in case I had to puke.”

With a heavy sigh, Jaime melted against Brienne. Soon they would hold their babe and never let go. Jaime worried about meeting Selwyn. He couldn’t blame the man if Selwyn wished to kill him off. 

Jaime thought back on the conversation with Brienne and the men when they left Meereen.

_Almost three weeks ago_

Jon and Daario managed to find the other group of lords. They had managed to find their way back to the holding and hid in their assigned chambers. It was both laughable and upsetting to hear. Those four walls had become a safe space for many of them. Jaime and Brienne were eager to leave the room where their babe was stolen from them, but to most of the men, those walls offered another day of life. 

Daario took a group of trusted Unsullied to help sail the ship. Together, Daario and the Unsullied would help transport whatever remained of Daenerys’ army back home. Jon claimed that they tried to spare as many men as they could. Most put down their weapons at Grey Worm’s orders. Some maintained loyalty to Daenerys and insisted on fighting until their last breath. 

After electing to travel by sea with their group rather than take the faster travel by dragon, Jaime and Brienne sat huddled together on the deck of the ship. Going below deck had too many distressing memories from the journey east. As Brienne sat between Jaime’s legs, they stared at the sunset. Addam, Anson, Mattix, and Daario stood near the railing of the ship.

Daario was curious about life in Westeros. Being from Tyrosh, he had explored much of Essos, but never the west. The men seemed to enjoy sharing tales of home, but Jaime just wanted to hold Brienne. When the stars came out and the Stormlands knights retired below deck, only Addam, Daario, Jaime, and Brienne remained. Except for some Unsullied manning the ship, it was quiet and the sea relatively calm. 

“How’d you lose the hand?” Daario’s voice called out from the railing. 

Jaime watched as Addam looked to the deck. He knew how much it pained Jaime to lose the hand that defined his skill and purpose, but Addam had not heard the truth of it; not until Bran told Selwyn.

Before Jaime could reply, Brienne spoke as confidently as she had in the great hall of Winterfell. “Protecting me from rape.”

Daario’s brows rose at the words. Whatever answer he expected, it was not that. He hummed and turned away as he considered the words. “I daresay I’d not care to face you on the field if you still had the right hand, now that I’ve seen you fight with the offhand.”

“He’s the best of his generation and the youngest knight ever elevated to the Kingsguard.” Brienne’s chin tilted up; the pride in her voice evident for all to hear. Her words sent a warmth through Jaime, but he couldn't help but needle her.

“Huh… I seem to recall being told that I was slower than expected. That people just loved to praise a famous name.” 

At Brienne’s words from the Riverlands, Jaime felt her chuckle against his chest. “I didn’t say you weren’t a cocky, arrogant, pain in the ass.”

Addam guffawed and nodded emphatically. “That’s more an assessment that I’m inclined to agree with. So you found the West’s Golden Lion too slow for your taste, Ser Brienne?”

“She beat me in a swordfight… when I still had the hand.” Now it was Jaime’s turn to praise Brienne. He had been in awe of her that day. His pride refused to admit what his body was screaming at him. _She’s stronger than me._

“No!” Addam guffawed loudly and clapped. “Fucking hells. I should have met her first. I’d certainly have done a less shit job of trying to woo her than you.”

“Yes, well it wouldn’t take much.” Even without seeing Brienne’s face, Jaime could hear her smiling. “He was unbearable.”

“Unbearable!? I was charming you!” Jaime tried to sound sincere, but it was proving difficult with Brienne chuckling against him. 

“You asked if I’d bedded any men, women, or _horses_.” At Brienne’s words Addam gasped in reply, but Brienne kept going. “You called me a giant, towheaded plank. You said that I’m as boring as I am ugly…”

“Which is to say that you’re far from boring! Look how exciting our journey was! I lost hand, we fought a bear, and you killed three Stark men in a heartbeat. That was very appealing by the way. Clearly I did not find you ugly or boring.”

Jaime’s attempt to reverse his statement went largely ignored. At the railing, Daario only shook his head. “What is wrong with you?”

Addam groaned and pinched the bridge of his nose. “You are an awful flirt, Jaime.”

Jaime squeezed his arms tightly around Brienne. He knew their early acquaintance had been among some of his worst moments. There was no teasing away how awful he truly felt for it all. 

Whispering into her ear, Jaime tried to temper any lingering resentment Brienne might have felt at the words. “I was very angry and bitter. I’m sorry.” 

He knew it was inexcusable. He treated Brienne reprehensibly while they were enemies, and he hated himself for it. Brienne glanced over her shoulder; her brows knitted in confusion.

“We were enemies…”

“Still…” Jaime interrupted Brienne. “It was unworthy.”

Brienne shrugged as though it mattered little. “Those were not the words that hurt to hear.”

The implication was clear, and Jaime considered how much he nearly cost them on that fateful night in the courtyard at Winterfell. He would spend the rest of his life trying to make it up to Brienne. 

He began to apologize, but Brienne cut him off. “I know. I’ve forgiven you for it.” A small smile tugged at her lips before she continued. “I do hope my father doesn’t kill you though.”

The realization that Jaime would need to come face to face with Brienne’s father hit him like a punch to the gut. “Gods. I’m a dead man. Do you suppose he’ll let me hold Harren first?”

Now as Jaime stood at the railing with his arms around Brienne, he inhaled sharply. The ship could not dock soon enough and all Jaime could think about was holding his family in his arms. When the ship finally approached, Jaime noted the group standing at the dock. House Stark, Tyrion, Selwyn, Grey Worm, and Genna. 

At the sight of Genna standing beside Selwyn and holding Harren, Jaime almost wept. His aunt had been like a mother to him when Joanna died. Aside from Tyrion, Genna was the only Lannister that Jaime enjoyed being around.

As Genna’s eyes met Jaime’s, he choked back a sob. They were finally home. Brienne and Harren were safe, and nothing could keep Jaime from his family. Even if Selwyn took Jaime’s left hand as compensation for putting Brienne through the Seven Hells, he would offer it gladly if only it meant that he could be with his family. 

For the first time in Jaime’s life, he felt free of stress and pressure. He could truly be happy with the woman he loved. He could claim his child proudly. He could live in peace.

Rubbing at his eyes to try and push away the forming tears, Brienne’s hand came to his face. “It’s alright, Jaime. You’ve been strong for both of us the entire time. You can cry now.”

Her words reminded Jaime of Harren’s birth. _‘It’s alright to scream, Brienne.’_

Of course, Genna immediately began reprimanding Jaime in the most loving way possible as the crew worked to tie the ship to dock. “Jaime Lannister! You get down here and hold this babe. You and that knight-wife of yours.”

The tears coating Genna’s words were as clear as her command. It reminded Jaime that they weren’t the only ones suffering in exile. Everyone left behind endured Daenerys, but beyond that, they were seperated from the exiled Westerosi too.

Their group moved to disembark, but Anson and Mattix cleared a path. “Come on now! Everyone back! None of you lords birthed a babe in that shithole. Let Ser Brienne through.”

Even as they returned home, the Stormlands knights fought for their own. With a nod of thanks as they passed, Jaime placed a hand on Brienne’s hip and guided her down the ship. The crew had enough food to nourish, but never to satisfy. They were all tired, hungry, and weak. They had only been in exile for four moons, but it felt an eternity. 

When their feet met the dock, Brienne sprinted to her father. The older lord sobbed and engulfed her in a hug. He likely would have held her all day, but Selwyn understood. He wiped at his eyes and backed away so that Brienne could hold Harren. Genna handed the babe and patted Brienne’s cheek lovingly as though she had known Brienne all her life.

As Jaime approached, Tyrion moved quickly towards him. The brothers embraced and Jaime knew that he owed Tyrion his life. He remembered Tyrion’s letter to Daario and all the other information that Arya had shared. 

Standing from his kneeling position before Tyrion, Jaime was met with a firm embrace from Genna. “Thank the gods. No more, Jaime. No more fighting and charging bloody dragons, you fool! And no more gods damned bears!” Stepping back from the embrace, Genna cupped Jaime’s face. Her chin trembled as she blinked back tears. “Go hold your son. He needs the pair of you.”

With a nod, Jaime stepped forward; his eyes darting uneasily to Selwyn. The older lord put a massive hand on Jaime’s shoulder. “Thank you for saving my daughter… _again_. Be with your family, but we will have words.”

The words made it clear that Jaime’s actions would not be brushed aside because of some good deeds in Meereen. Jaime understood and merely appreciated that he wasn’t immediately run through with a sword. As Brienne held Harren close, Sansa approached and wrapped her arms around her former sworn sword. They exchanged whispered words that Jaime didn’t want to intrude on, but he also desperately wanted to see his son. 

Moving slowly beside Brienne, Jaime felt the air leave his lungs when he saw Harren. He was just over a moon turn old, but alert with curious blue eyes and soft, blonde fuzz on the top of his head. Brienne’s cheeks were wet from tears and despite the lack of desire to let go, she extended her arms towards Jaime. 

Jaime flinched at the action. “I’ve never held a babe…”

“Well you’ll learn quickly. Here…” Brienne moved Jaime’s right arm into position. “Support his head here.”

When Jaime held his son, he thought his face might crack from how wide his smile was. The babe was so small and calm. Raising his arm to elevate the babe’s head, Jaime kissed Harren’s forehead. He laughed and spoke with unshed tears in his voice. “He’s perfect.”

Jaime had never felt such love for anyone as he felt for Brienne and Harren in that moment. Pulling her close with his free arm, Jaime held Harren between them. He kissed Brienne’s cheek and let out a contented sigh. “I love you so much.”

Brienne smiled as her hand reached for Haren’s face; her long fingers tracing his jawline. “I love you still. I never stopped.”

As much as Jaime didn’t want to let go, he could sense Brienne’s eagerness to hold their son. “You want him back, I suppose.”

“You’re hogging him.” Brienne smiled as she took Harren and held him against her chest. 

Jaime chuckled at the words, and his eyes never left his wife and babe. A dainty hand grabbed the crook of his elbow. Standing beside him, Sansa Stark offered an apologetic glance. “I’m very sorry about my handling of the _letter_ at Winterfell. Thank you for keeping my friend safe in Meereen.”

It was strange to look at Sansa now. A woman grown, Sansa was the spitting image of her mother. The guilt in the young woman’s eyes did not go unnoticed, but in truth, Jaime feared he would have left despite her words that day. He felt too haunted by his hateful deeds, and the guilt at abandoning Cersei pregnant when he contributed to the monster she became had been all-consuming. They should have faced judgement together as they both committed hateful deeds together. Jaime only regretted his decision’s impact on Brienne. He would give anything to change it, but a part of him wondered what might have happened then. 

Trying to allay any guilt the young woman felt, Jaime teased her. “Your delivery of the information was much kinder than what your mother once afforded me. She took a rock to my head.”

Sansa snorted and rolled her eyes at the words. There was a hint of mischief in her reply. “Did you deserve it?”

“Oh, definitely.” Jaime’s quick reply improved the young woman’s spirits. A bit of the challenge returned to her eyes that Jaime came to observe often at Winterfell.

“Good. Now this time, _stay_. You’re my protector’s protector.” Without another word, Sansa stepped away. She moved to greet the other men and Jaime watched from over Brienne’s shoulders as he pulled her and Harren close. 

Selwyn had Anson and Mattix in a massive hug rivaled only by a bear. The men smiled and patted the older lord’s back. Jaime couldn’t hear the words exchanged, but he knew that Selwyn was expressing his utmost gratitude. 

Considering all that Anson, Mattix, and Addam had done for them, Jaime didn’t think it possible to ever repay them. Jaime’s was a debt that could never be paid, but he would try his best for the men. He regretted losing Kent and Herbert in the ordeal.

At the edge of the dock, Grey Worm and Daario greeted one another with a quick embrace. They spoke in somber tones, and Jaime imagined they had much to discuss. Both were good men despite supporting Daenerys, just as Tyrion was a good man who had supported her.

When at last the group moved towards the Keep, Jaime nearly melted at the thought of a proper bed and meal. He had never been so happy to return to the Red Keep. In the carriage that brought them through the city and up Aegon’s Hill, Genna and Selwyn sat shoulder to shoulder staring at them.

Genna was beaming as she appraised Jaime, Brienne, and Harren together. Selwyn looked uncertain. Leaning forward, Genna stroked Harren’s cheek. “He’s a quiet babe. Didn’t give me half as much trouble as Jaime did as a boy.”

With a sarcastic smile at his lips, Jaime hummed in reply. Before he could begin his typical banter with his aunt, Selwyn cut in; his eyes darted to Genna and his tone was dry. “I hope for your sake he was less troublesome as a boy than as a man grown.”

“We discussed you holding your tongue.” Genna spoke through gritted teeth. It was evident the pair had greatly differing views on Jaime’s quality.

“And I did… at the docks.” Selwyn glanced out the window and sighed. “I’ll give them the day and then I’ll have words with your nephew.” 

Genna huffed and rolled her eyes. “Stormlanders.”

Jaime shifted in his seat and forced a smile when his eyes met Brienne’s. Genna’s hand reached out and grabbed the gold brick fastened to Jaime’s stump. “By the gods! I never cared for this thing, but what on earth have you been doing with it?”

With a small smile at Brienne, Jaime turned to meet Genna’s eyes. “It was chomped on by a bear and Brienne, though I think the latter did most of the damage.”

Brienne snorted and nudged his side. She shook her head slowly as she looked back at Harren who was sleeping peacefully in her arms. “You should have something less cumbersome or nothing at all. It would be better for you.”

Jaime sighed and moved closer to Brienne. With his arm around Brienne, Jaime’s thumb rubbed her arm absently. “It was a bit useful in Meereen.”

Glancing at Genna, Jaime raised a brow. “So I assume we’ve a new king now?”

The look on Genna’s face was anything but impressed. “What we have is a fucking mess. Now that you’re here, we’ll sort this out. All the liege lords are in the city. We’ll meet on the morrow.”

_Oh gods. What is that supposed to mean?_


	26. The Meeting of Sellswords

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jaime and Brienne spend more time with Harren as things get sorted out.

Brienne lounged in bed with Jaime and let her body soak into the plush bedding. Between them, Harren cooed contentedly; his little arms and legs flailing everytime Jaime and Brienne spoke. They had spent almost a day in bed after bathing and having a grand meal. Neither wished to part from Harren, but Brienne’s heart had shattered when confronted with the fact that she could not nourish her babe.

Jaime had held Brienne as she wept the day prior. The wet nurse had entered to take the hungry babe to the nursery and feed him. Jaime’s words echoed in her mind. _‘This doesn’t make you any less a mother. The next babe you can feed.’_

They had few visitors to the room with most opting to give them time as a family. Selwyn came by to check on them and ensure all three were comfortable. While Brienne could sense the tension between Jaime and her father, Brienne knew that Selwyn was appreciative. He was a man who never shied from voicing objections if he had any. Further, Selwyn ensured Jaime’s comfort which spoke volumes.

Tyrion and Sansa had also come to visit with Cersei’s babe. The last piece of Cersei had a strange effect on Brienne. 

_The day prior_

“I thought Harren might like to see his cousin. I’m thrilled for once that we can both truly call Cersei’s babe a nephew and nothing more.” Jaime groaned at Tyrion’s words, but he reached out for the young boy. 

Taking the babe in his arms, Jaime considered him. He glanced up at Tyrion and spoke questioningly. “Who has been watching after him?”

“Genna since she arrived. Prior to that, he was on Tarth for a bit to ensure no harm befell him. Before that… me.” 

Brienne gasped at the information and reached over for the young boy. “He needs consistency. All babes do.”

Tyrion sighed and sat on the edge of the bed. He offered a sad smile and shrugged at Brienne. “I don’t disagree, but he’ll have Genna now.”

It didn’t feel right. Despite everything, the babe was her nephew and the last part of Cersei; her husband’s twin. Brienne did not feel threatened by Cersei. If anything, she felt badly for the hateful woman she grew to become. 

“We should take him to Tarth. He could grow up beside Haren and want for nothing.”

Jaime’s eyes went wide and his head snapped to Brienne. “You want _Cersei’s_ babe with us?”

“Why not? He is _our_ nephew. I know you’re angry at Cersei, but she was your twin. You said it yourself… she wasn’t _always_ like that. She became that.”

Jaime stammered in reply. “I just didn’t know if it would be too much. I’d like to raise him.”

Taking the babe from Jaime’s arms, Brienne set him down next to Harren. A small smile stretched across Brienne’s face. Most of the babes’ features stood in stark contrast to each other, but there were a few shared Lannister traits. “What is his name?” 

Brienne glanced at Tyrion, but he only looked at Sansa guitlity. “We were considering some names.”

“You’ve not named him!?” Brienne was incredulous. The babe had been in Westeros for moon turns, and had yet to receive a name.

Sansa sighed in reply. “We thought it best to wait for Ser Jaime. He knew Cersei better than anyone and might know a name she would prefer. Tyrion suggested ‘Tywin’ since Cersei always fancied herself Tywin in female form.”

“No.” Jaime replied immediately and shook his head. “Not that name.” A slow smirk spread across Jaime’s face as he glanced first to Brienne, and then at Tyrion. “We’ll name him after Cersei’s favorite little brother. If this babe is anything like his Uncle Tyrion, he’ll be a good man. It’s a good name; a Lannister name. Cersei would love it.”

Tyrion guffawed and shook his head. “She’s raging in the Seven Hells at that. I like it.”

The brothers chuckled, but in truth, Brienne thought it a fitting name. According to Jaime, Tyrion was always an incredible uncle, and very loving towards his family. Even when Cersei and Tywin were cruel, Tyrion tried to appease them for so many years. He loved his family despite the cruelty he received over the years. He was also intelligent and caring. If Cersei’s babe turned out like Tyrion, it would be a good thing.

Brienne spoke softly as she watched the babes staring at one another. “It’s a good name, because Tyrion is a good man. If this babe is anything like him, he’ll do just fine.” A small shrug raised her right shoulder. “It’s merely a bonus that Cersei would hate it.”

Sansa nodded approvingly when she met Brienne’s eyes. She lifted the wine cup on the table beside her. “To Tyrion Hill of Tarth. May he enjoy the island, his cousin, and two parental figures with an abundance of love to give.”

Now as Brienne sat in bed with Jaime at her side, Harren cried out again in hunger. The sound made her heart break everytime. Brienne hated that she would not be the one feeding her babe, but nourishing him by any means was most important. Jaime brought Harren to the wet nurse and Brienne was left with her thoughts. Daenerys had stolen much from them, but it was the lost moments with Harren that hurt the most. 

When Jaime returned, he held Brienne close and asked about Tarth. He had seen it from a ship once, but he never set foot on the Sapphire Isle. Not long after, Harren was returned to the room and they played with the babe on the bed. A knock came at the door and Jaime called out for the visitor to enter. Brienne was surprised to see Tyrion sway into the room flanked by two sellswords; Daario and Bronn.

Jaime guffawed and sat upright. “I thought your drunken whoremongering days were over?”

“I said nothing of the drink. Only the whoremongering.” Tyrion flopped into a chair with a smug looking Bronn and Daario at his back. His finger pointed up accusingly at the sellswords. “These two are a problem. I made the fatal error of introducing them.”

Bronn raised a brow and spoke challengingly at Jaime. “Ya made a new sellsword friend. What? I wasn’t good enough for ya? Ya an ungrateful shit.” 

“What!?” Jaime narrowed his eyes at Bronn. “You tried to kill me up north!”

“No! I _threatened_ to kill ya. Big difference.” Bronn reached towards a bowl of fruit on the table and took an apple.

Daario’s brows lifted at the words. “I threatened to kill him too. Great minds think alike.”

Bronn guffawed and pointed at Daario. “I like this one.” Glancing at Daario, Bronn took a bite of the apple and spoke with his mouthful. “And why didn’t ya? He offer ya a castle too? The fucker never makes good on it!”

“I do not owe you a castle! Tyrion promised that.” Jaime shook his head in distaste. The conversation startled Brienne. She had not heard of any conversation involving Bronn threatening Jaime or demanding a castle, but then again… it was Bronn.

Bronn turned to Daario and shook his head. “This miserable cunt owes me. I saved his ass from that dragon the crazy btich brought here.”

Daario’s brows rose and he turned to Jaime. “Oh? I saved you from a bear. What do I get for that?”

“Saved me from a bear!? I seem to recall you putting the bloody bear there to begin with!” Jaime was incredulous as he glared at the man, but Daario found the entire situation rather amusing.

“No… Zharin put you in there with a bear. Now that I think on it, the bear wasn’t all that I helped with.”

Bronn snorted and took another bite from his apple. “Well don’t expect repayment for ya effort. I’ve been waitin’ for years!”

Tyrion shushed the men. His fingers pinched the bridge of his nose and he sunk further into the chair. “Quiet. My head hurts. I can’t recall the last time I felt like this.”

Bronn walked slowly towards the bed and stared down at Harren. “I’m surprised he’s the first. I thought ya was fuckin’ since Riverrun. Probably before that.”

“Ser Bronn…” Brienne’s tone was a warning as she glared up at him. 

“With Bronn, you needn’t the formality of title. He’s a miserable shit.” Jaime rolled from the bed and bumped Bronn backwards. “You’re distressing Harren. Don’t you have brothels to run or castles to demand of my brother.”

The two continued squabbling as Tyrion groaned at the volume of their voices. Daario approached and stared at the babe. “I’m sorry you didn’t get to hold him. I wasn’t there that morning or I’d have allowed it.”

Brienne offered a sad smile as she glanced up at Daario. “Daenerys’ orders it would seem. At least Harren won’t remember the ordeal, though I’ll never forget.”

It was the only solace that Brienne could take from the situation. Harren was too young to understand the horrors of what he endured. He was stolen from his parents awaiting arms and handed to a stranger. Where most babes would be in a cradle or with their parents, Harren was on a ship with soldiers and a wet nurse. It was cruel, and Brienne would forever hate Daenerys for it.

“Well, I’m sorry for it. If I could make it up to you, I would.” The sincerity in Daario’s voice was appreciated, but the only thing that could compensate was time. Brienne didn’t wish to let Harren go. They had been summoned to a meeting that morning, but Brienne would take Harren along. 

Near the balcony, Jaime and Bronn were still going at it. Brienne could not wrap her mind around their friendship. It struck her as antagonistic, but it was evident that Bronn cared on some level. 

Grabbing Jaime’s false hand, Bronn snorted. “This got properly fucked. Remember when I smacked ya across the face with it? That was good fun.”

“What?” Brienne’s eyes narrowed in question, but Daario and Tyrion laughed loudly at the remark.

Another knock at the door caught Brienne’s attention. Without awaiting invitation, the door flew open and Addam’s voice called out. “You two better not be fucking!”

As his eyes landed on everyone, Addam’s eyes widened. “Oh good, you’re decent, though the company isn’t. I outdrank all these miserable shits last night. Addam moved quickly towards the younger Lannister and clapped his shoulder. Tyrion!” 

Tyrion startled at the volume of Addam’s voice and covered his ears. His voice sounded pained as he questioned Addam. “Did you even sleep last night? Why are you so chipper?”

“Oh, I’m _quite_ well-rested. Found a lovely lady of the night on the way back to the Keep. A proper welcome home! A bath, meal, and a lady. Do you have any idea how awful it was to not find release in Essos!?”

_Oh gods. I don’t want to hear any of this now._

“Why not? Ya hand broken?” Bronn scoffed.

Addam narrowed his eyes as though the question was absurd. “They had us all in one room half the size of this one!”

“So?” Bronn shrugged; his eyes darted around the room for support. “Wouldn’t have stopped me.”

“You’re disgusting. Brienne was in the room with us!” Jaime shook his head in distaste and moved towards the bed to pick up Harren. The young babe cooed happily in Jaime’s arms and his little fingers wrapped around Jaime’s thumb.

Bronn hummed and smirked at Brienne. “As I told Poddy boy… I’d fuck her.”

“If you ever tried, you’d find yourself cockless.” Brienne grumbled and moved from the bed. It was incredible how well-rested her body felt. The day of relaxation had made all the difference as Brienne stretched and walked past Bronn, shooting him a death glare.

The sellsword backed up quickly and put up his hands defensively. “Didn’t mean no offense! I’d never try if ya weren’t interested.”

“Well I’m not, thank you.” Brienne grabbed her jerkin to ready for the meeting to take place in a few moments. 

With a grunt, Tyrion practically fell off the chair. “Lets get this over with. I need a nap.”

Their group moved towards the throne room to join the rest of the kingdoms’ representatives. Daario and Grey Worm were there to take instruction on whatever was decided regarding Daenerys’ remaining men. Bronn screamed down the hall from Tyrion’s side; the sound hurting the younger Lannister’s ear. “Hey Poddy! Where ya going!?”

_Pod. Sweet Pod._

Arriving at the Keep, Pod was the first person who Brienne wanted to see. She had sought him out immediately and the young man wept in her arms for nearly an hour. He would always feel like her first child, but Pod was a man grown now. In the siege, Pod had been injured after taking a spear through his left bicep. The wound was much recovered, but he was still a bit weak and had remained abed that morning. For his bravery in battle, Pod had been knighted by Bronn.

For as much as Bronn could be disgusting and improper, he fought fiercely and with great resolve. Selwyn had been impressed by Bronn’s skill as he helped lead the attack towards the throne room. 

Entering the throne room, Brienne saw several empty seats saved for their group. As the last acting Hand, Tyrion led the proceedings. The kingdoms had fallen under his rule until a new sovereign was named. 

House Stark represented the North with Jon, Arya, Bran, and Sansa present. Lord Edmure Tully represented the Riverlands and Lord Robin Arryn represented the Vale. Each man had their own advisors present should such a thing prove necessary. The West was represented by House Lannister which included Jaime and Genna with ever loyal Addam at their back. 

House Hightower represented the Reach alongside Sam Tarly who gladly rescinded his title as Lord Paramount following Daenerys’ death. Gendry had done the same for Selwyn, and Brinene’s father now represented the Stormlands with Anson, Mattix, and Brienne at his side. The two knights’ presence had been requested by Selwyn, and Brienne knew that Selwyn desired a meeting with them afterwards. Lastly, Ser Manfrey Martell represented Dorne. 

Taking a deep breath, Tyrion spoke first. “Everyone here knows that Daenerys’ rule was brought to an end by the unified efforts of the Riverlands, Stormlands, Vale, West, and Free Folk. Lord Selwyn saw to it that Daenerys would not harm another innocent, and I regret we lost so many before that was able to happen. Now we find ourselves without a sovereign. Many of you know that we fought for another Targaryen; Jon Snow. He was born Aegon Targaryen, but he was hidden away in the North under a bastard’s name for his own safety.”

With a heavy sigh, Jon shook his head. He glanced around the room with sad eyes and a frown. “I can’t rule. I hid away in the North while Daenerys did unthinkable things to everyone here in the south. I swear to you that I had no idea, but I saw the signs in her, and should have done something sooner. I loved her and was afraid to confront her growing paranoia, so instead I did as she asked. I ruled in the North and focused on rebuilding. I’ve done nothing to warrant taking the crown.”

Sansa’s brows furrowed and she shook her head. “You know how to rule. Father raised you to understand what is expected. You were taught alongside Robb.”

“I don’t want it. I never even wanted the North. All I ever wanted was acceptance and a home. Just because I’m of Targaryen lineage, doesn’t mean that I should take the throne. Robert won by conquest. Anyone here could take the throne. Hells, Selwyn did what I was afraid to do! Name him.”

“No…” Selwyn put up a hand and shook his head. “I’ve enough to deal with in the rebuilding of the Stormlands. Our kingdom suffered great losses over the years. We’ve suffered through war and unworthy sovereigns. I have little desire for anything other than helping my kingdom recover.” 

_Thank the gods._

Brienne felt her body relax into her chair. Knowing that she was her father’s heir was already worrisome enough. In truth, she wondered how she was meant to be heir now that she was wed to Jaime. Surely he would expect to live at Casterly Rock.

Others names were considered for some time, and all Brienne could think of was getting back to her room and relaxing with Jaime and Harren. Her son slept peacefully in her arms as everyone carried on around her. Then Jaime spoke for the first time since they entered.

“Why do we need anyone? What good has it done for the kingdoms over the past decades?”

Tyrion snorted at Jaime’s words. “Someone must rule, brother.”

“Have the kingdoms rule themselves as they once did. House Targaryen conquered the kingdoms and united them, but they’ve lost the crown. I don’t wish to bend to another shit ruler. Most kingdoms won’t trust a sovereign we pick here anyway. The kingdoms have all been at war with one another for some time. Does anyone from the Reach really want someone from Dorne or the Stormlands on the throne?”

Jaime raised a brow at Lord Hightower who bristled. Relations between the southernmost kingdoms had always been strained over the generations; particularly Dorne and the Reach. Then Jaime turned to the Starks. “Does the North trust anyone from the south to rule? Someone from the west again? Wouldn’t that be lovely.”

Arya and Sansa groaned in distaste. Then Jaime looked at Edmure. “You hate everyone. What’s the point? If the kingdoms agree to work together, but focus on rebuilding their own lands, why do we need one king or queen? It’s all gone to shit as far as I can tell.”

Sansa’s brows furrowed as she considered the words. “I agree with Ser Jaime. An independent North would do well for itself just as it did well for thousands of years before Aegon. Our House would happily work with all of yours. Trade and partnership as we all rebuild would be crucial.”

Others began to nod in agreement and Brienne straightened in her hair. The idea seemed quite wonderful to her. She had grown to despise politics. The Iron Throne seemed to do more harm than good. While people would always scheme and seek power, it felt easier to contain fighting and scheming within your own kingdom than six more on top of it. From what Brienne had observed, anyone who sat on the Iron Throne or sought it, only left a trail of destruction in their path. It was the innocent who suffered most. 

Glancing down at Harren, Brienne smiled. _I just want peace for my babe and little Tyrion. This could give them that._

Tyrion sighed and nodded in conciliation. “Very well. What of the crownlands though? They need aid as they’ve suffered greatly over the years.” 

Selwyn hummed at Brienne’s side. “Either they could become their own kingdom, or we could divvy out the lands between other kingdoms.”

Jaime’s voice was resolute as he spoke, and most agreed with him. “Their own. They should remain together as they already have connections among themselves. They’ll trust one another more than anyone else. They’ve always been under the rule of the crown.” 

It was Sansa who spoke next. “Tyrion should lead them. He has the mind for it, and he has lived in King’s Landing before. He has been Hand twice now, and were it not for his effort, I fear the rescue of the exiled and the removal of Daenerys would not have happened.”

“No.” Jaime’s reply was quick and surprised everyone. “Tyrion is needed in the West where he will be king.”

Tyrion’s eyes went wide. “You are heir, Jaime.”

Shaking his head, Jaime responded in a tone that brokered no argument. “I never wanted it. You are our father’s true heir. I’d just muck it up. Besides, my wife is to be the future Evenstar and queen of the Stormlands. She needs a dashing consort at her side.”

Jaime smirked at Brienne, but her eyes misted in reply. “You don’t have to give up the West for me.”

“You’re worth far more than the West. Besides, you’ll make an excellent queen, and Tyrion an excellent king. I’ll watch after our brood of knights we’re to have.”

Brienne snorted, but her heart raced with the possibility of truly going home. She glanced at her father and saw the joy dancing in his eyes. “I suppose I like the boy. We’ll keep him.”

Before more words could be spoken, Genna rubbed Jaime’s back and nodded in agreement. “Jaime speaks the truth. Tyrion will make a fine king for the West. You’ll need a strong Hand though!” 

At Genna’s tone, Tyrion chuckled. “Oh I wonder who thinks to qualify for such a role.” As his smile dropped, Tyrion looked to Jaime with tears in his eyes. “Thank you, brother. I’ll make our House proud… well, you at least. Father might be fighting his way back from the Seven Hells to contest this.”

A knowing smirk tugged at Jaime’s lips as something passed between the brothers that Brienne found touching. They had a bond that Brienne missed with Galladon. She prayed to the gods that Harren would have siblings to share such love and connection with, but if nothing else he would have little Tyrion.

“So… back to the Crownlands.” Tyrion raised a brow and sighed. 

“How about Jon? This very Keep was built by his line. Even Dragonstone has historically been the seat of House Targaryen and its heirs.” Genna inclined her head at the Stark bastard turned Targaryen. 

“He’ll be ruling at Winterfell.” Sansa interjected quickly. “He can’t lead two kingdoms.”

With a sigh, Jon shook his head. “No, I won’t be ruling at Winterfell. You should have it, Sansa. You are the trueborn daughter or Lord and Lady Stark. The people listen to you and you’d make an excellent queen.”

Brienne’s heart swelled and she smiled warmly at Sansa. She was more than deserving and would do an excellent job as queen. 

With a small smile, Sansa looked at Bran. “By birthright, it should go to Bran.”

“No, that’s not my role. I’ll gladly be your Hand, but I’ll not be Lord.” The young man who fancied himself a raven nodded encouragingly at his sister. Seeing Sansa smile freely in return was a welcome sight. For a moment, Brienne was reminded of Lady Catelyn. 

_Once. I can recall Lady Stark smile only one time, and it looked entirely as Sansa does now._

“Alright. Thank you both. I would second Jon for the Crownlands. He has the Targaryen lineage, and any of Daenerys’ men wishing to remain would likely trust him. The Crownlands offer open fields for the Dothraki horses, and easy access to port cities should they wish to return to or travel to Essos.”

Grey Worm’s brows furrowed in confusion. “You would allow them here?”

Brienne’s brows furrowed at the question. She glanced down at Harren and saw the innocence on his face. The Unsullied and Dothraki were someone’s children; even if long ago. They followed their queen and protected her, just as Brienne would have protected Sansa. Almost absently, Brienne spoke in reply.

“It isn’t their fault that Daenerys went mad. It wasn’t Jaime’s fault, nor the rest of the Kingsguard, that Aerys went mad. Why should they be punished? They helped us beat death itself.”

Grey Worm and Daario glanced at Brienne strangely. Something akin to appreciation flashed across their faces, but they offered little more than a nod. With a loud exhale, Jaime grabbed Brienne’s knee. “They should all stay if they wish. They’re skilled fighters and very loyal. Jon would be fortunate to have them, but hopefully, they would only know peace.”

“Peace.” Grey Worm spoke the words as if little more than a dream. “The Unsullied know no peace.”

“Well you should. You’ve endured quite enough pain.” Brienne couldn’t fathom all that they had endured throughout life. They were enslaved and brutalized. It was cruel and no one deserved that. Brienne remembered fighting alongside the Unsullied at Winterfell. They were brave, loyal, and honorable. She imagined that it pained them to see Daenerys slip into madness; the woman who once freed them. 

Grey Worm smiled at Brienne from his seat, offering only a small nod of the head. Beside him, Daario appraised her strangely. His eyes darted away quickly, but his expression reminded Brienne of the fighting pits. He often looked uncertain. 

Taking a deep breath, Jon appraised those gathered in the room. “After all that happened, I want to help fix what Daenerys destroyed. The people deserve peace and justice. I’ll lead the Crownlands, and as Ser Brienne said, any man wishing to stay is welcome.”

When Jon agreed to lead the Crownlands, the group set to discussing other matters. Firstly, they discussed plans for ensuring strong relationships between kingdoms. The ruling Houses agreed to meet annually in King’s Landing to discuss matters impacting the realm, and they agreed to honor the laws of each kingdom when traveling, or when people from their kingdom traveled to another.

The meeting soon concluded, but Selwyn placed a heavy hand on Brienne’s shoulder before she left. “I need to speak to you, Anson, and Mattix.”

Nodding in understanding, Brienne handed Harren to Jaime. The young babe was beginning to stir, and would soon need nourishment. With a gentle kiss to Brienne’s lips, Jaime smiled. “I’ll meet you back in our room?”

“Yes. I’ll be there shortly.”

Following her father, Mattix, and Anson to a side room, Brienne wondered what her father had in mind, though she was confident it had to do with some form of repayment for all they had done. When they stepped into the study, Selwyn offered each man a seat before pulling over a chair for Brienne.

“I can’t begin to thank you both enough for saving my daughter, and I’m so sorry for all that transpired. We had no idea that Daenerys would order you all into the fighting pit.” Selwyn’s frustration was palpable, but his thanks was sincere.

Both men nodded in reply, but it was Mattix who spoke. “Of course. We’d not leave behind one of our own. Ser Brienne may be your heir, but she’s our comrade. She bested us all for a place on Renly’s Rainbow Guard, and she earned her knighthood much more so than most of us.” 

Brienne’s face flushed at the praise, but Selwyn continued at her side. “Even still, I thank you for it. You risked your lives for my daughter and grandson. Ken and Herbert died for it…”

Selwyn glanced away and grimaced. The tears in his eyes were as clear as the stars on a cloudless night. Her father did not get emotional often, but when he did, it felt as though the whole of the Stormlands had been wiped away by the raging seas. 

Collecting himself, Selwyn glanced back at them. “ _Before_ we decided that rule of each kingdom would be independent, I negotiated for prominent holdings for the pair of you. As second sons, I know you’ll not see your own Keeps bestowed upon you, but I will ensure it is done. I negotiated for Highgarden and Dragonstone. Both have been agreed to. Lord Leyton even tried to offer a second prominent Keep in the Reach instead of one of you taking Dragonstone. Hearing of all you’ve done, they want men of your caliber in the Reach, and after all the wars, they have ample ladies in need of a strong match.”

Both men glanced at once another with uncertainty writ across their face. Anson took a deep breath and met Selwyn’s eyes. “It’s an incredible honor, but I’m a Stormlander.”

“As am I.” Mattix voiced his opinion just as strongly. Both men puffed out their chests with pride at their statements, and it warmed Brienne’s heart, but she was shocked. Highgarden and Dragonstone were Keeps belonging to Great Houses. Of course, those Great Houses were extinct now except for Jon who would remain in King’s Landing. 

At the same time, Stormlanders were tough, loyal, and stubborn. She hardly seemed surprised at their response, though she was impressed that her father managed to negotiate such prestigious lands for each man.

Selwyn huffed a laugh and rubbed at his eyes. “I thought as much, so I prepared for options in the Stormlands as well. With House Toyne extinct with their last kin dead across the Narrow Sea, there are ample lands and an impressive Keep in need of a lord. Further, there is Griffin’s Roost. _Tragically_ , Red Ronnet is no longer in possession of his Keep.”

Selwyn glanced at Brienne with a smirk on his face. She covered her face to hide a smile, but inwardly, she wondered at what her father had done to that miserable shit, Red Ronnet. 

At Brienne’s side, Selwyn continued. “You would both be elevated to noble Houses. I’ll afford you each a large staff with ampel funds to get things in order. Tarth is forever in your debt. You’ll want for nothing, and if you so desire it, I’ll work to make you both fine matches.”

With surprising sincerity, Mattix glanced at Brienne. “I thank you, but it’s more a pity that Ser Jaime has stolen away with the finest match the Stormlands has to offer. Your daughter makes us all very proud.” 

Brienne’s chin quivered when she saw the honesty in Mattix’s eyes. To be regarded so highly by fellow knights meant the world to Brienne, and that it was truly earned felt the greatest honor of all. It wasn’t her father’s position that afforded it. It was forged in exile together. 

A tear smile lined Brienne’s face. “I hope one of your hurries up and has a daughter. My son needs a worthy bride someday. I’d be honored if such a match was made.”

Anson thanked Selwyn for the offer and accepted it gladly, but Mattix hesitated. “I appreciate it all, my lord. You honor me in ways I had not thought imaginable, but… I’m a knight; not a lord. I wouldn’t know what to do with it all. Hopefully the Stormlands only know peace, but I’d prefer to serve in the army.” 

Selwyn’s eyes widened and he considered the words. “Well… I’ll need a Commander of the Stormlands army. I can think of no knight finer. Would that be of interest?”

Mattix straightened in his chair. There was a spark in his eyes that Brienne usually only saw in the pits. “I’d be honored. Thank you, my lord.”

“Wonderful! We’ll afford you a fine estate on Tarth near Evenfall so that you might have a place of your own. I imagine our Keep is going to become rather… loud…” Selwyn bit back a laugh; the reference to the brood of knights that Jaime mentioned was clear in his voice. 

Selwyn shared more details for all that he would bestow upon the men. The endowments were impressive, and Brienne was pleased for the men. They seemed overwhelmed at all they received, but Brienne knew that it would never be enough considering all they had done for her. 

Soon the men left the room, but Selwyn grabbed her arm. “I would have some words with you before I speak with that husband of yours.”

Brienne grimaced at the words and prepared for a reprimand. She had given her maidenhead freely and without commitment. She had put four of the Stormlands best knights in grave danger with two having met the Stranger in exile. 

Taking a deep breath, Selwyn met Brienne’s eyes. “The hardest thing that I’ve ever had to do was lie about my love for you before all of court. It broke me in ways that I cannot begin to describe, and I’ll never forgive Daenerys for putting me in a position to denounce you before everyone, but please please that it was only to keep you and my grandchild safe. Bran truly believed it the only way, and I was so _desperate_ , Brienne. I need you to know how proud of you I am. How proud I have _always_ been.”

Brienne buried her face in her hands. Her emotions had been all over the place since Harren’s birth, but at Selwyn’s words, she broke down. Strong arms wrapped around her and shushed her. “You’re safe now, and I’ll ensure it stays that way. No more adventures now. You’ve quite proven yourself to all of the kingdoms _and_ Essos. I don’t know any other women who could survive fighting pits while pregnant and survive the kind of torture that you’ve endured.” 

Selwyn tipped up her chin as Brienne’s tears subsided. His words were teasing when he spoke. “That husband of yours might be the death of me, but I promise to only beat him within an inch of his life given all he has done to return you to me. You and Harren. For as entirely fucked up as his relationship with his sister was, he protected you as I couldn’t.”

Brienne chuckled as tears dripped down her face. “Well his punishment would fall under your rule now. He did renounce his claim to the West to join us on Tarth.”

With a loud snort, Selwyn nodded and shook his head. “That he did. The boy surprises me more every day.”

A light knock at the door caught the attention of Brienne and Selwyn. With furrowed brows, Selwyn moved towards the door to answer it. He glanced back at Brienne with raised brows after noting the visitor. 

As Selwyn pulled the door back, Daario came into view. “Apologies. They said you came into this room, and with the Stormlands knights gone, I thought you might have a moment for me.”

“Of course.” Selwyn extended his arm for Daario to join them at the table. “My daughter seems to have had her fill of my ramblings anyway. What can we do for you?”

Daario took a deep breath and appraised Brienne before turning to Selwyn. “You’re Lord of Tarth, correct? Well… Evenstar and king of the Stormlands, is it?”

Selwyn huffed a laugh as he shut the door and took a seat. “It would seem that way. My goodson is already increasing my workload. How kind of him.”

Daario huffed a laugh, but his smile faded quickly. “I was speaking to Grey Worm, and he said that many of the men wish to stay. The rest wish to return to their homelands. I had planned to escort them there, but... “ Daario bit his lip and glanced away. “I’m familiar with your island. While I did not partake, many men I fought beside in the Second Sons used to pillage there. Pirates as you might call them. I never cared for that lifestyle. Too dishonorable for my taste. I prefer my opponent to face me with full knowledge of what he intends to involve himself in.”

Brienne chuckled lightly at the words. While Daario may be many things, a dishonorable fighter he was not. The sellsword inhaled sharply and continued. “I can never make up for what happened in Meereen, but i can try. I _wish_ to try. To be honest, I’ve never seen anyone so brave as your daughter and… loathe as I am to admit it… her husband. If you might have need of me, I would be happy to serve on Tarth. I know much about pirates and the best defense against them. I’ve led armies and maintained a city in absence of its queen. I would help you in whatever you might ask, should you wish for that.”

Selwyn’s brows shot to his hairline and he glanced at Brienne in question. With a nod indicating that Selwyn could trust Daario, the older lord appraised the sellsword. “Until days ago, Tarth was merely a vassal House here in Westeros. Being an island, we do often encounter pirates as you note. Our defenses are _decent_ , but lacking. To be honest, it’s likely my fault. When my friend and Master-at-Arms died, I never had the heart to replace him. He trained Brienne… an incredible man. I suppose now, I’ll need a Master-at-Arms. Bran told me all that you did to keep my daughter alive. He and Tyrion spoke quite highly of your leadership capabilities. If you’d like the role, I’d have you as Master-at-Arms on Tarth. I imagine my daughter would agree with that?”

Glancing at Brienne, Selwyn raised a brow. With a nod of her head, Brienne agreed. “Ser Jaime and I were enemies once. War between our kingdoms drove us to view each other as such. It was during that war that I came to know how honorable he is. I can’t say that I enjoyed exile, but… I viewed you as an enemy, until I came to know you. We would be dead if you didn’t save us. I can say the same for my early days with Jaime. I’d be naught by bones somewhere in the Riverlands. Tarth and the Stormlands would be lucky to have you. Though I warn you… Jaime, and Mattix will be there.”

Brienne smirked at Daario. He rolled his eyes and nodded in understanding. His tone was teasing when he replied. “Part of my punishment for the wrongs in Meereen.”


	27. The Warmth of Tarth

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The group finishes matters in King's Landing and moves to Tarth.

“So you’ll give Clegane Keep to Bronn?” Jaime raised an amused brow as he stared at Tyrion. In Jaime’s arms, Harren slept peacefully. It was midday following the meeting with all representatives from the kingdoms, and Brienne was still with her father. Tyrion had just shared that Bronn would be awarded Clegane Keep and offered the position of Master-at-Arms at Casterly Rock. 

“Well we did promise a castle, and it just came to mind as we spoke. He wanted this one since Highgarden was no longer an option, but Jon will be occupying it… not that anyone in their right mind would have given Bronn this castle to begin with. I figure if the Mountain previously held Clegane Keep, even Bronn would be an improvement.” Tyrion rolled his eyes as he spoke. 

Jaime was hardly surprised to hear that Bronn wanted the Red Keep. _Typical_.

Glancing at Addam, Jaime sighed. “With Bronn in the West, you’re certain that you don’t want to come to Tarth?”

Addam put an arm around Tyrion and smiled. “And leave my favorite Lannister alone out West? I could never!”

“Your favorite!? _I’m_ your favorite.” At Jaime’s outburst, Harren stirred in his arms. Jaime cursed inwardly and rocked the babe back to sleep. _Gods. Don’t let Brienne return to a crying babe._

Addam eyed the babe and grimaced. “You’ll have two babes on Tarth, and knowing you, another on the way within moons. I’m certain that will be lovely for _you_ , but I prefer passing my time in ways other than changing nappies. Tyrion needs my help with the ladies of the West.”

“So you’re choosing your cock over me?” Jaime bit back a laugh as he raised a brow at Addam. As much as Jaime enjoyed needling Addam, his friend deserved the world after all he did in Meereen. Addam’s next words were a reminder of that.

Addam scoffed. “I followed your ass into exile and doing so nearly cost me my own ass! Besides, can you imagine if I went to Tarth instead of returning West? Gods! The island would be overrun with women looking for me.”

Jaime snorted loudly. He would miss Addam greatly, but Addam’s decision made sense. Addam was heir to Ashemark, and the West’s army needed his leadership. Tyrion had just asked Addam to be Commander of the Westerlands army, and Jaime was happy to hear it.

Jaime knew that Tyrion would take great care of Addam and ensure he wanted for nothing. After all that Addam had done for House Lannister, and Jaime in particular, it was only fitting that Addam be treated as kin and elevated in status. 

A loud knock came at the door. Jaime thought it strange that Brienne wouldn’t simply enter, and he was hardly expecting anyone else to come by. Answering the door, Jaime looked up into the eyes of Selwyn Tarth. _Ah. Time for my thrashing._

It took only a look at Addam and Tyrion for the men to scurry from the room. Selwyn’s booming voice echoed off the walls. “Mind if I come in?”

Jaime stepped aside to allow Selwyn entry. The older lord took a deep breath and appraised the room. When Selwyn turned around, his eyes settled on Harren. “He certainly sleeps a lot.”

“I like to think it’s a defense tactic whenever Tyrion and Addam are around.”

Selwyn hummed and raised an amused brow. His massive hand reached out for Harren’s head before he turned away and took a seat. “Come, sit with me. There are things that I would discuss with you.”

Taking a deep breath, Jaime did as he was instructed. A stream of apologies formed at his tongue, but Selwyn spoke before he could give them voice. 

“I want to thank you for saving my daughter. If I lost her…” Selwyn grimaced and looked away. His tongue clicked in his mouth before he continued. “Best not to think on it. The point is that I appreciate you saving her multiple times. Now of course, had you conducted yourself properly in the North, there would have been little need for saving her.”

_Here it comes._

Jaime’s face fell and he stared intently at Harren in his arms. From across the table, Selwyn shifted in his chair and leaned onto his right elbow. 

“My daughter loves you and I would not stand in the way of her happiness. Not that I’ve ever been able to. She wanted to fight, so I let her train. She wanted to go to war, so I gave her armor. She wanted to serve in the North, so I sent her coin for safekeeping. She wants _you_ , so I’ll open my Keep to you. That said, I would ask two things of you.”

Jaime glanced up at Selwyn through his lashes. The last time he felt so small was sitting before Tywin as a boy living at Casterly Rock. 

With narrowed eyes, Selwyn spoke sternly. “The first… never again allow my daughter to go one day thinking herself unloved. I will already need to make up for that given my own words at contrived rejection of her before all of court. You will need to make up for the emotional damage you inflicted at Winterfell. Lord Bran may have outlined all of your great deeds, but he was also honest about how you failed my daughter in a certain courtyard. I’ve never seen her look so broken as when she was dragged before all of court and made to feel like little more than your whore until your time came to return to your _sister_.”

There was raw hate in the reference to Cersei, and Jaime imagined there were _many_ reasons for such a sentiment. Jaime opened his mouth to refute the misunderstanding of his intention upon fleeing, but Selwyn put up a hand. His words mirrored Jaime’s attempted words.

“It matters not what you _intended_ to do. It matters how you made her _feel_.” There was no allowance for argument in Selwyn’s tone, and Jaime could do little more than nod in understanding. 

Taking a deep breath, Selwyn tapped the table with one of his long fingers. “Now that the unpleasant bit is out of the way… you father was a miserable shit of a man.”

Jaime snorted at the words. “Was that meant to be stated _before_ the unpleasant bits were over with?”

“No. That is just a statement of fact.” Selwyn huffed and collected himself once more. “He was a miserable shit, _but…_ he was a powerful leader. I don’t ever wish to instill fear in my people, though some of Tywin’s political maneuvers that did not involve the unjust killing of others were impressive. I speak more so to when he was Hand of Aerys. You were too young to recall all that, but your father was a powerful leader. I do wish to build a strong kingdom capable of defending itself from external threats. I want peace, but in our world, it is not always possible. You by contrast are from a powerful House, but of much higher moral fiber. You might not think yourself politically savvy, but growing up with your father and serving multiple sovereigns, you’ve seen how it works, and you have seen it done both well _and_ poorly. I would ask you to serve as Hand.”

Jaime startled at the words. “I’m not political; that would be my brother. I’m just a knight.”

A small laugh pushed past Selwyn’s lips. “A knight who served on the Kingsguard for much of his life and grew up as heir to the West. I will handle the political bits, but you’re not so incapable as you make yourself out to be. Clearly you understand the kingdoms and you know the ruling families. You know how to appeal to others and, despite your denial of it, you understand politics. Your words in the throne room are proof enough of that. You’ve known shit rulers for much of your life, and I ask you to help me _not_ become that. Until the past week, I was only a vassal. You understand the mentality of the Great Houses. Some day I’ll die, and you can continue advising Brienne. She despises politics, but with you at her side, she’ll make an incredible queen.”

The idea of having more of a purpose on Tarth didn’t sound so bad. Further, it would serve as a way to help keep his family safe. Loathe as Jaime was to admit it, Selwyn made valid points. Jaime had been raised as Tywin’s heir. He knew what was expected in the running of a kingdom. Nodding in agreement, Jaime met Selwyn’s awaiting eyes.

“Alright. I’ll do the best that I can for you, and I'm sorry about…”

Selwyn put up a defensive hand. “Just keep Brienne happy and feeling loved. I don’t imagine you’ve known much of that yourself growing up as you did under Tywin and then serving shit kings. I hope Tarth affords you some warmth in that regard.”

Standing from his chair, Selwyn sighed and placed his large hand on Jaime’s shoulder; giving a small squeeze. “I am proud to call you goodson even if a bit unimpressed with your idea of courting.”

Without another word, Selwyn walked towards the door. He paused and called back absently. “Oh, one other thing. Daario is staying on as Master-at-Arms with Ser Mattix serving as Commander of the Stormlands army. I trust you’ll work well-enough with the pair.”

Jaime huffed a laugh and rolled his eyes. “Do you hear that, Harren? They’re to torture me in this.”

* * *

It was almost a week before Jaime stepped foot onto Tarth for the first time in his life. Jaime and Selwyn had participated in more meetings with the newly appointed kings and queens. In the North, Sansa would be queen with Bran as Hand. The North’s army was in shambles after many years of war and the Long Night. Until Sansa could find and name a permanent Commander and Master-at-Arms, Arya and Gendry offered to fill the roles. Ultimately, they would return to Storm’s End and tend to their own lands, but first, they would ensure the North was secure.

As expected, Tyrion named Genna as Hand, Addam as Commander, and Bronn as Master-at-Arms. In the Crownlands, Jon named Davos as Hand and Grey Worm as Commander. With the Gold Cloaks still in King’s Landing, their captain was elevated to Master-at-Arms. Jon had chuckled at the absurdity of his makeshift group during one of the meetings. 

_‘I’m a bastard turned Targaryen king. Davos is a lowborn smuggler turned knight and Hand. I think Grey Worm is the most qualified for his role between the three of us.’_

Now as Jaime stepped into Evenfall, his eyes went wide. While nowhere near the size of the Rock, it was easily the warmest and lightest Keep he had ever stepped foot into. He held Harren in his arms as Brienne held little Tyrion. At Brienne’s side, Pod smiled widely. The young knight would serve as personal guard to the Evenstar. 

Most of the new sovereigns had opted for personal guards instead of official Kingsguard or Queensguard. For Brienne, it was important that Pod be given the chance to marry and father children. While the laws of the Kingsguard could always be revised to account for as much, most new sovereigns hoped that simply having a personal guard in addition to a Master-at-Arms and well-trained household guards would be sufficient.

Jaime glanced at Brienne and smiled widely. “Well _Princess Brienne_ , this is quite nice. I honestly don’t understand why you ever left, though I’m glad you did.”

During the time that Brienne and Jaime sailed from Meereen to Westeros, Selwyn had sent word to the staff to prepare a nursery for his grandson. While Selwyn hadn’t expected they would choose Tarth over Casterly Rock, he wanted to ensure his family’s comfort when they visited. When Jaime forfeited the West to Tyrion, Selwyn had written ahead to request a second nursery be set up for little Tyrion. 

The staff had been thrilled for the babes’ return. Both boys had won the hearts of the staff during the brief time they spent on Tarth while Daenerys was removed. Jaime felt comfortable knowing his son and nephew were already cared for so deeply. Selwyn guided the group upstairs and towards their assigned rooms. 

As Daario was Master-at-Arms and Pod was personal guard to the Evenstar, both men would be afforded rooms at the Keep. Pod’s room was placed next to Selwyn’s room. The space was massive, and much larger than necessary. “My lord! This is incredible, but you don’t need to have me here. I don’t mind a small room among the staff.”

“Nonsense Podrick. I know how important you are to my daughter. Of course, you and I will be together quite a lot. This will save us both the added walk. As Brienne mentioned, this isn’t a Kingsguard. There is no standing outside my room at night nor vows preventing you from taking a wife. This room affords that space if you wish for a wife or lover. Should you have children, they’ll be afforded space in the family wing.”

Daario’s room was next to Pod’s. It was similar in size and well-decorated. The sellsword’s eyes went wide at the accommodation. Before he could reply, Selwyn patted the sellsword on the shoulder. “Same goes for you, Daario. Ample space if you wish for a spouse or lover.”

They moved down a long hallway which led to a different wing. Jaime hardly knew the layout of the castle and thought little of the direction they walked in, but Brienne’s brows knitted in confusion. “When did you move your room? Why are you no longer down here?”

Selwyn sighed and led them towards a room at the far end of the hallway. “After you left Tarth to serve Renly, I couldn’t bear being in the family wing any longer. Too much loss and emptiness. It’s yours now. You’ll grow your family here.”

Understanding washed over Jaime as he realized the significance of the hallway. It was where Brienne’s room would have been growing up. When they stepped inside the room that Selwyn directed them into, Jaime’s jaw dropped. They had been afforded the lord’s bedchambers. It was massive with a smaller room attached that had a private bath. A massive balcony overlooked Evenfall’s gardens and the sea in the distance. The room was light and airy with an incredible sea breeze drifting in. 

The room was a blend of all things Lannister and Tarth. For every sigil of House Tarth, there was decor embroidered with the sigil of House Lannister. Selwyn spoke absently as Jaime looked around in awe. “I had the staff fix it up for the pair of you. Change it if you wish, but I thought you might keep a bit of Tarth in here despite the change in name.”

Selwyn’s comment made Jaime think back to the conversation with Sansa before leaving. 

  
  


_Four Days Prior_

Jaime smirked at Sansa as they spoke in between meetings that day. “It’s a shame you’re not wed to my brother any longer. I would find it so amusing to have Ned’s kingdom ruled by a Lannister.” 

With a groan of irritation that would make her mother proud, Sansa shook her head. “There must always be a Stark at Winterfell. If I wed, my husband will need to understand that when our children bear the name Stark.”

“What if you wed a Great House?” Jaime’s brows rose in question. His eyes appraised his former goodsister as she spoke.

“I do believe that House Stark is a Great House. That combined with my status as queen would mean the man is certainly marrying above his station. Of course, I’m not left with many options if we’re talking about Great Houses. My uncle, Edmure Tully, rules in the Riverlands. My cousin, Robin Arryn, rules in the Vale. My former husband, Tyrion Lannister, rules in the West. My cousin, Aegon Targaryen, rules in the Crownlands. That leaves who for a Great House? Ser Manfrey Martell? No thank you. Besides, they seem quite irrelevant now that we’ve named kings or queens for each kingdom. I do believe the sovereigns will be the new version of a Great House in a way.”

  
  


The words had set something off in Jaime. He wondered at that for days afterwards; his eyes narrowed on Harren and Brienne in consideration. It would be a conversation for later after everyone was settled in and the children in bed for the night. 

After exiting their room, Selwyn guided them across the hallway to the nurseries. “I’ve had the staff set up Galladon’s old room for little Harren. If you’d humor me, I instructed them to do the same here. A bit of Tarth among all this unfortunate crimson and gold.” His words were teasing as he pushed open the door. 

Jaime watched as Brienne walked slowly towards the cradle set out in the room and gasped. With little Tyrion in her arms, she reached down and smiled. “Galladon’s blanket. I can’t believe you still have it.”

Brienne shared that she did not remember much of her brother given how young she was when he drowned. Given that, Jaime imagined the blanket was one of those treasured few memories, perhaps made easy given its physical presence long after Galladon’s death.

Selwyn hummed sadly and leaned against the doorframe. “I couldn’t bring myself to get rid of it.”

They moved next door to see little Tyrion’s room. Jaime was shocked to find that Selwyn had the staff decorate the room in all things Lannister. A sea of crimson and gold blanketed the space. The space was as ornately decorated as Harren’s room, and certainly not a common allowance for a bastard to be treated equally to a trueborn; not that Harren and Tyrion were siblings. Stepping further into the room, Jaime’s jaw went slack. Jaime turned towards Selwyn; his features writ with shock. 

“Thank you. I had not thought to see all this afforded to him.”

_All this consideration afforded to a babe that I left Brienne to save… or die alongside._

Jaime bit his lip and turned away. An incredible guilt washed over him at the reminder of how much he almost lost to die with his hateful sister.

“He is your nephew which makes me his great-uncle now. He should have no less than Harren, though I did make one change on little Tyrion’s behalf.”

Selwyn walked towards Jaime and produced a rolled parchment. “I hope neither of you mind, but I suggested this to Tyrion while we were in King’s Landing. I wished to legitimize little Tyrion as a Lannister, but given that is the ruling House of the West, I wanted his permission. This paper legitimizes him and has the signature of both myself and Tyrion. Tyrion quite liked the idea, and if he doesn’t have children of his own, he plans to name little Tyrion as heir. Even if Tyrion does have children to inherit Casterly Rock, he said there will always be a home in the West for his nephew if he so wishes. Of course, the same would go for little Tyrion here. This will always be his home.”

It was a generous act for the innocent babe in Brienne’s arms. Jaime looked to her and smiled widely, but she was busy staring at little Tyrion and talking to him about his new room. She loved the babe as though her own, and Jaime considered how lucky Cersei was to have her babe so loved and cared for by the very people who Cersei would have killed if she kept her crown.

“Thank you. For all of it. I can’t imagine little Tyrion will ever want to leave here, but he’ll be given options that most bastards are not afforded.”

Selwyn sighed and nodded. “Not a bastard any longer. A Lannister, though not to be confused with you Lannisters _of Tarth_.” A rumbling laugh shook Selwyn’s chest as he gazed down at Harren.

Jaime’s brows furrowed. He had thought to broach the topic later, but now seemed as good a time as any. “So you can just… change all that? The last name that is.”

“Of course I can. I’m a king now, but you are meant to keep me in line as Hand. Nothing too extreme.” Selwyn continued staring at Harren with a fond smile on his face, but when Jaime next spoke, Selwyn’s head snapped up to meet Jaime’s curious eyes.

“Could you change Harren’s last name then? He should be a Tarth.”

Selwyn was speechless, but Brienne spoke for him. “Why would we do that? You wished for him to be a Lannister.”

Jaime had meant it at the time. He didn’t want to bring another bastard into the world. More than anything, he wanted their babe to have a name. It was less about _Lannister_ , and more about claiming a babe and giving a name.

“Tarth has always been ruled by Tarths. That’s what you told Daenerys, wasn’t it? I renounced my claim to Casterly Rock, and Brienne will be queen here some day. Shouldn’t she and the children be Tarths? That’s what Sansa will do in the North. I think the Stormlands has had enough of the Lannister line for generations to come. They should be ruled by Tarths.”

Brienne moved towards Jaime; her eyes never leaving his. “You’ve already given up the West for me. The people know the truth of your deeds now. No one will disparage you with the Kingslayer title any longer; not unless they wish to have Oathkeeper run them through. There is no shame in your name. Our son is a Lannister of Tarth.”

“I can hardly make up for all the wrongs committed by my House, and I’m not without my own sins. Our children should be Tarths. A Stormland House that rules the Stormlands and the island of Tarth. I certainly don’t worry about the Lannister name. Between both Tyrions and the unnecessary amount of Lannister cousins that I have, the line won’t die. You made little Tyrion a Lannister. Lets make Harren a Tarth.”


	28. The Building of Kingdoms

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Seven years after Daenerys' lost the throne, the kingdoms come together for their annual summit.

Seven years had passed since Daenerys was removed from the throne. It was the week of the annual summit and while Jaime hated leaving Brienne and the children on Tarth, he was eager to see his brother and Addam. 

Life on Tarth was chaotic, but only in the best of ways. Just two moons prior, Jaime and Brienne welcomed their fifth babe.   
  
Harren was seven and thriving with his cousin Tyrion at his side. The pair had already declared that when Harren was Evenstar someday, Tyrion would be his Hand. They were truly inseparable and the best of friends. Jaime watched as the boys grew and trained for knighthood. They had incredible mentors in Brienne, Daario, Mattix, and of course, Of late however, Jaime was quite busy.

After Harren, Jaime and Brienne had five-year-old Addam. The young boy was the spitting image of Selwyn, and the older lord loved propping the boy up on his shoulders to parade him around Tarth. When Addam Marbrand visited the island two years prior, he commented that the boy’s hair color was all wrong, but he loved little Addam all the same.

Following Addam were the twins; three-year-olds Joanna and Mattix. Joanna was the wild twin and prone to getting into trouble. The staff at Evenfall laughed at her antics and shared fond stories of how Galladon wreaked similar havoc all over the island many years ago. The tales were amusing, but Jaime always noted the hint of sorrow in Selwyn’s eyes whenever Galladon’s name came up.

Then two moons prior, Brienne birthed their second girl that they named Sansa. Over the years, Brienne and Sansa Stark had grown even closer than before Daenerys’ mad reign. Long gone was the formal relationship between a liege lady and a sworn sword. They wrote often and visited frequently enough. At first, Sansa visited for diplomatic purposes. The North had many holdings destroyed by the Long Night, and Sansa loved how the marble of Tarth helped brighten the northernmost Keeps. 

While Sansa had few fond memories of the south, she did miss the sunlight and warmth. She was more than accustomed to the cold, but she quite enjoyed lounging with Brienne on the beaches of Tarth when she visited. 

The one person who had yet to acclimate to the North’s conditions was Addam. Jaime didn’t think it possible, but the young wolf tamed his childhood friend. The pair married three years after the kingdoms regained their independence. They had welcomed their first babe two years prior; a boy named Eddard. As Sansa declared, her children would be Starks, though like Brienne, Sansa did proudly boast her husband’s sigil. The young wolf made it well-known that she was just as much a Marbrand as a Stark. 

Of course, Addam’s attempts at courting were as awful as Jaime’s. 

_‘The only thing better than one redhead is two.’_

_‘A great man once said, gingers are beautiful; kissed by fire. Would you like to be kissed by a fire to match your own?’_

_‘The best way to mend generations of tension between the West and the North is to find release together…’_

The comment had earned him a slap. It was the last attempt that finally won Sansa over. 

_‘You are a proper force and I will literally do whatever you say.’_

Through it all, Jaime always noticed the small smile at Sansa’s lips and the mirth in her eyes when Addam dropped his worst lines on her during summits. Jaime had never seen Addam so whipped and in love. After Jaime helped course correct the very Bronn-like attempts at wooing, he sat back and watched the magic happen.

Addam and Sansa made an incredible team. They truly enjoyed one another and had a strong marriage. It helped that, true to his word, Addam smiled sweetly at Sansa’s rulings in the North. _‘Yes, sweetling. I couldn’t agree more.’_

Of course, Addam’s presence solved the issue of a Commander of the North’s army. As much as he japed at being no help politically, he did an incredible job with the North’s army. Jaime considered that he wouldn’t be so foolish as to wage war with the young wolf should they ever disagree on matters. Under Addam’s command, the North’s army was stronger than ever; stronger than Robb’s forces had been when they rebelled so many years ago.

Addam’s departure left a gap at the Rock, and it led to a change at Evenfall. As heartbreaking as it was to say goodbye to Ser Pod, the young knight stepped into Addam’s role. Being from the West, it was the right move for Pod. He had become an incredible knight, but under Jaime’s, Mattix’s, and Daario’s tutelage, Pod developed an incredible military mind. Brienne had teased Pod endlessly when he accepted the role. 

_‘I only hope you’ve a more keen military mind than when we traveled to Riverrun so many years ago.’_

Pod’s acquired military knowledge wasn’t the only thing that had improved over the years. His respect among the West’s military leaders under Addam greatly increased. As a soldier in both the Long Night and the siege of King’s Landing, Pod was highly regarded and respected as a knight. As a military leader in battle, Pod made a name for himself in defense of the West. 

In the seven years following Daenerys’ removal from power, only one threat moved against the kingdoms. To the west, a group of seafaring warriors attacked the western coast. According to Bran, they came from lands west of Westeros, and Arya was fuming that she didn’t discover them first given her abandoned plans to travel. The Stormlands moved to aid the west; their sister kingdom by marriage. 

Under Mattix’s command, Pod led a group of Stormlands soldiers that ultimately ended the war. Tales of Pod’s decision making and bravery in battle circulated rapidly in the West; particularly given he was of House Payne.

Tyrion was thrilled. He had Bronn and Pod at his side once more, though Genna was busy managing the men. She was constantly reprimanding Bronn, and Jaime considered it was the only time he saw Bronn truly afraid of someone. 

Now as Jaime walked to the great hall at Selwyn’s side with Daario and Mattix at their back, he glanced over his shoulder and smirked at the pair behind him. “I do hope you’ll both make it through the proceedings without passing out.”

When Pod left, Daario offered to double as Master-at-Arms and personal guard to the Evenstar. While ample time had passed to fill the role, Daario was happy to take on both. The first three years in Tarth allowed Daario to concentrate on improvements to Tarth’s military defense. The household guards were in incredible conditioning and they had a solid group of senior officers among them. With such drastic improvements on Tarth, Daario had time to guard Selwyn as well. Given Tarth was an island, they had the advantage of natural defense that other sovereigns lacked. It afforded Daario the opportunity to take on more without compromising the security of the island or Evenstar.

Given Daario’s role of personal guard in addition to Master-at-Arms, it meant that he attended the annual summit with the rest of the council members. That of course meant that once a year, chaos ensued in King’s Landing. 

Daario, Bronn, Pod, Tyrion, Addam, Mattix, and Jaime were unleashed on the unsuspecting city. They jokingly referred to themselves as the Summit Seven, though many years, Daario and Tyrion were able to convince Grey Worm to join which always made things very interesting. A serious man, Grey Worm was not one for drinking and lude japes, but on occasion, Grey Worm would surprise them all with an unexpected remark or demonstrated ability to go drink for drink with them. The night prior, Grey Worm had joined them in the city. It had been one of the best outings yet. 

That day, the Summit Seven and Grey Worm were truly feeling it. Jaime appraised the men at his back and noticed the dark circles under their eyes. _They’ve barely slept… nor have I._

It was the first day of the summit, and all Hands would give formal updates on their kingdoms. Jaime could only imagine the update from the Rock and the North. Stepping into the hall, Jaime bit back a laugh as he watched Genna reprimand her king, Commander, and Master-at-Arms. 

Bronn was trying to hide behind Tyrion which was particularly absurd to observe. Everyone settled into their seats, and the northernmost kingdom began. Bran gave his usual deadpan update. It took everything in Jaime not to fall asleep, but then Jaime’s curiosity was piqued at what came next.

Bran paused after giving updates on the people, trade, and relations with the True North which was under Tormund’s guidance, because still, the Wildlings bent to no man. “As to military matters… Ser Addam has prepared his own update.

_Oh gods. This should be interesting._

Addam stood and smiled widely. “Esteemed kingdoms-men…”

All of the Summit Seven snorted at the invented word, but Sansa responded with an exaggerated eye roll. With a shrug, Addam backpedaled. “Or kingdoms-women….”

“It’s not a word, Addam.” Sansa sighed as she corrected her husband and his misinterpretation of her unspoken objection. 

“Language is living, sweetling. Go with it.” Addam took a deep breath and continued. “We’ve finished building a fleet just large enough to rival those bloody Stormlanders, and we’ve positioned the ships at Eastwatch, Flint’s Finger, and White Harbor. The Eastwatch location is of course to keep an eye on threats to our kingdoms from the northeast… whoever in their right mind would sail at us from such an arctic place… I know not. Bran and my queen-wife just tell me what to do, and I do it. The fleet at Flint’s Finger will guard the western coast. The fleet at White Harbor will be the one we call on to aid to our southernmost friends… and Dorne.”

Ser Manfrey Martell huffed from his seat and rolled his eyes at Addam. While there was no tension between Dorne and the North, Addam enjoyed having a go at the kingdom that gave the West a proper headache for so many years during the war between Cersei and House Martell. The Reach however appreciated Addam’s jape and clapped approvingly. 

Continuing his update, Addam looked to the ceiling as though reading the numbers on the rafters. “As to our foot soldiers. We’ve now got around 20,000, but about 2,000 of them… well… I’m not certain if they understand which end of the sword is meant to be held. Either way, no known threats to our queen in the North aside from my nightly sieges….” 

Sansa reached up and tugged his arm; her face a stern warning as Addam sat down without another word and shrugged innocently. Jaime bit back a laugh as he slouched back into his chair. The update from the Riverlands and Vale were dull as ever. Jaime’s mind wandered to Brienne while Edmure’s Hand and Robin’s Hand blathered on.

_Days prior_

Jaime tackled Brienne to the bed after she walked in. She had just put the children to bed and Jaime couldn’t wait any longer. The maester had cleared Brienne to resume all activity after examining her that day. She had stopped bleeding some weeks ago after little Sansa’s birth, and Jaime meant to ravish her. 

The time between birthing and clearance for beddings was unbearable to Jaime. Of course, the maester’s clearance was meant to imply readiness for swordplay and training, but Jaime took it to mean clearance for _all_ physical activity. 

Brienne laughed against Jaime’s head as he sucked gently at her neck and nestled between her legs. His cock was already hard and wanting; his breeches tented as his hips rocked against her. “Too much clothing, _your Grace_.”

“I’m not a queen yet.” Brienne’s hand brushed through Jaime’s hair as he began tugging at the laces of her breeches. 

“You’re my queen. Close enough.” Jaime smirked as he made quick work of her breeches. Over the years, he had become less bumbling about it. The memory of nearly getting stuck in his own tunic at Winterfell had been reason enough to practice a more rapid removal of clothing.

Soon they were divested of all clothing and desperately clawing at one another. Jaime thrust into Brienne’s warm folds and stilled as the sensation of being one with her washed over him. It was a feeling that never dulled with time. Jaime considered that he didn’t wish to die in her arms, but rather he wished to live between her legs. 

As Jaime began to rock them slowly, their lips became less frantic and more passionate. The warm sea breeze rolled over their bodies as sweat began to bead on their skin. Shallow breathing and quiet moans were the only sounds to be heard aside from the slapping of skin on skin. Jaime felt his release building as he worked to push Brienne over the edge. Her body arched and her hardened nipples grazed his chest. 

When Brienne found release, Jaime’s name poured from her lips and he swallowed it down happily. His own release was not far behind and he spilled his seed deep within her contracting walls. 

They lay together for sometime after. Brienne told Jaime about the day with the children while he shared some of what transpired at court. Jaime never cared for politics, but Selwyn kept things entertaining. Like Jaime, Selwyn had little patience for drawn out conversation and debate which kept things moving along. 

A hard elbow found its way between Jaime’s ribs. Selwyn leaned over and spoke for Jaime’s ears only. “You are the Hand of the Stormlands, correct? I do believe you’ll need to give an update.”

_Oh fuck. Is my cock hard? This could be awkward._

With a quick mental check on his breeches to ensure it was decent to stand, Jaime gave the update for the Stormlands; the people, trade, relations with the other kingdoms, and the military update. Of course, most Hands gave military updates as they did the other areas. Bran only ever relinquished that part to Addam as a way to vex his older sister. He knew that Addam would provide sufficient, although indecent, updates. 

Soon enough, the meeting concluded. Over the next few days, it was more of the same. Sovereigns met with sovereigns; Hands with Hands; commanders with commanders. Jaime enjoyed any meeting between Hands, because it gave him ample opportunity to needle Genna. 

Of course, it also proved an opportunity for Bran to have a go at Jaime. The young man enjoyed torturing Jaime with commentary ill-suited for public settings. 

When the summit ended, Jaime bid farewell to his friends and kin. As much as he enjoyed seeing them all, he missed Brienne immensely. Whenever they were apart for more than one day, Jaime found it difficult to concentrate on the task at hand. His mind was awash with all things Brienne, and it left Jaime wondering how he managed to go so long without confessing his love for her so many years ago.

Days later, Jaime’s ship returned to Tarth. The children and Brienne gathered at the docks to welcome Jaime and their group home. Even from a distance, Jaime could see the children racing up and down the dock eagerly. His heart swelled with love for his young family as Brienne stood with the six children. 

Harren and little Tyrion stood shoulder to shoulder at Brienne’s side. Both boys attempted to act as an example for the younger children, but it was a lost cause. Everyone waved excitedly as the ship began to dock. When Jaime’s eyes landed on Brienne, it felt as though he was seeing her for the first time in years. His love for her never dulled with time; it only increased. 

Jaime practically pushed past the rest of the ship’s occupants to disembark. As the children climbed all over him, Jaime reached out for Brienne who held little Sansa in her arms. 

“Welcome home.” 

Home. For so long, Jaime thought he might never truly find home. Casterly Rock was a tomb. His mother died there along with his innocence. King’s Landing was forever cloaked in the Stranger’s shadow. In that city, Jaime lost his dreams, sovereigns, and kin; he lost his way. 

It wasn’t until the Riverlands that Jaime found himself and found love. It wasn’t until Tarth that Jaime found home.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for reading! Hope everyone is healthy and happy. Happy Valentines Day!


End file.
